Narnia: When Children Cry
by Lady of the Earth and Sword
Summary: Lumnus. This is the full story of Tumnus's and Lucy's lives together - their friendship, their love, and the strange place in between. From the first time they met to the last, this is their story.
1. Part 1: No Cakes!

Narnia: When Children Cry

My first phanphic, so be merciful, I beg of you!

SUMMARY:

Part One: Basically, Tumnus' story of his friendship with Lucy.

Part Two: Their friendship after Lucy becomes Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia.

Part Three: Lucy and Tumnus reunite many years later, and how their friendship progresses into something more (let's all guess what _that _is, shall we?)

Disclaimer: I don't own Lucy, Tumnus, or anything, really, in Part One. I get to own more stuff as the book progresses... but for now, I own nothing; I am simply a phanphiction hobo.

Chapter One:

No Cakes!

The truth is this: the whole thing might not have ever happened if Tumnus had cakes in his pantry. Lucy, the human girl, would not have ever met the faun. For you see, it was because of her friendship with Tumnus that she returned each time to Narnia. If she had not gone back, her brothers and sisters would have not entered the wardrobe, thus the White Witch would be left undefeated, and Narnia would have never again known the joys of summer, Narnia would have always had four empty thrones at Cair Paravel. So, I suppose it was Aslan's will that on that day in the Long Winter, the faun Tumnus was frightfully hungry, but at a loss for cakes.

Tumnus frowned at the barren cupboard. There wasn't a speck of food visible, and a fat grey rodent in the corner. Tumnus shooed the mouse away, closing the pantry door with a sigh of resent. He should've bought something earlier, when it wasn't quite so bitingly frigid out-of-doors.

_But it is always cold now, _thought the faun with more than a trace of bitterness. _For it is always winter. It's because of HER. The White Witch. Jadis. _A wave of sad, quiet guilt gushed over his soul. _And I? I can't say I'm any better._

For he had taken service under her.

It wasn't as though he'd had much choice in the matter. At first, he'd seen only the spray of snow, only heard the silvery echo of bells. Like a flash, he'd found himself curled into a fetal position against a snow-crested birch, and the Witch's wand in a perpendicular path to his harshly breathing chest.

"Spare me," he'd moaned. "Give me my life, and I'll do what you want, whatever it may be!" Oh, he regretted it later, even regretted it in that moment. His father, his noble faun father, would never have shown such cowardice and shame.

The Witch then smirked with all the coldness she'd bestowed upon Narnia. "I knew you'd see things my way." Jadis lifted her wand away from his heart. "Now... your name, faun."

He couldn't speak in fear.

The White Witch's voice had risen "Have you gone _mute, _scum, or do you really have the impertinence to ignore your queen's demands! Now _answer me, _creature, with your _name! _"

The figure cowering against the tree had licked his lips. "T-t-t... Tumnus, my lady."

She'd bent down to meet his eye level. "Tumnus," she'd murmured, tracing her long finger down the side of his face, then across his jaw line. Tumnus sprang back in shock. Never, in all the Long Winter, had he encountered anything as utterly freezing as that second-long touch.

She had looked him directly in the eye. Tumnus couldn't help but have this overpowering emotion of fear. "I want you to do something for me, Tumnus," she'd whispered. "Undoubtedly, you've heard of the prophecy of Cair Paravel."

Tumnus nodded briskly.

"Then you shall know that any human creature that walks in my domain shall be... done away with," she'd finished. "So I need you to promise me something, faun."

She was terrifyingly close. Her breath was comprised of minuscule crystals, her words were seductive and slippery with persuasion, and Tumnus was petrified of her cold beauty. The words seemed to be choked out of his reluctantly scared throat: "Anything you ask, my lady."

She had smiled wickedly. "I need you to promise me this: that should you ever see a Son of Adam or a Daughter of Eve, you should befriend it." Tumnus furrowed his brow in slight perplexity. "Pretend, will you? Act as though you mean to be the best of friends. Then when you've got the human brute under your thumb, take it to your home (wherever that may be), and lull it to sleep." Tumnus thought this a rather easy task, but was no simpleton. There was more to this request. "Once it's gone to sleep, you shall then hand it over to me, and I'll... take care of things."

Kill it. Torture first, perhaps, but kill it undoubtedly, Tumnus knew.

"Promise me, faun. Swear to me, your queen."

He'd opened his throat and managed to croak out, "As you wish, my lady. I swear to you, I shall fulfill your request."

She had once again smiled temptingly. "Thank you, Tumnus." She fingered a lock of his hair, and Tumnus tried not to wince from the inhumanly cold touch. Then, as quickly as she'd come, she had retreated to her sleigh in all its grandeur, for it was as pale and cold as she.

The dwarf in the front of the sledge was seconds away from whipping the horses when Tumnus had called, "Wait, Your Majesty!"

The Witch had fixed her lifeless gaze on him.

"How am I to get the human to fall asleep?"

Once again, for the final time, she let her lips curve upwards in the dangerously enigmatic smile. "The box in your hands, faun. Play the human creature music, but do not use the tool for any other purpose." Tumnus looked down to his fingers to find that she'd slid a box into his grasp when he hadn't noticed.

"Oh, and Tumnus?"

He looked up at her once more.

"Betray me, and you shall compensate for it with such pain that you can't fathom." And with the flick of a silver whip, she had disappeared before he could blink.

Tumnus shuddered as he recalled the memory. How could he have been so foolish, so dishonorable to accept the Witch's task?

He knew why.

It was unlikely, perhaps the most unlikely thing in the world that he should run into a human in the wood. The Western Wood held numerous mysteries, but he felt sure that humans weren't one of them. And giving his word to the Witch gave him leverage, he felt sure.

All the same, Tumnus fingered the box she'd given him with a guilty conscience, now safe in his own den. He'd opened it soon after the Witch's departure on that day so long ago, to discover that it held a wooden flute, one of the finest he'd ever seen. The instrument split into two pipes at the end in the stead of one long pipe. He was quite familiar with it, being a musician himself. Yet he'd compared the queen's instrument with his own to discover that the holes in the new flute were differently sized than his own. How on earth did she expect him to play a human to sleep if he the instrument would play no song? Ah, but no human would wander into Narnia. That he knew.

Still, should such a thing happen, he would be forced to hold to his word.

But suppose the human were a child...

Tumnus was terribly fond of children. He thought, knew with every fiber of his being that children should never cry. Children should be happy as much as possible before they had to enter the terrifying grown-up world. Thus, the last place a tear should appear (though sadly the most common) is on a face so young. Tumnus avoided at all costs for such a sorrowful thing to happen, and certainly not on his account. And if... If he had to turn over a human child to the White Witch...

Ah, but he was thinking nonsense. He had errands to run. So, minutes later, with a red muffler round his neck and a snow umbrella hooked over his wrist, Tumnus stepped a cloven hoof into the wintry frost.

Ack, it's not the best I could've done… Oh well.

Sorry if it was a little long, I get carried away, you know?

Read and Review, please!


	2. Part 1: What Was At the LampPost

Disclaimer: I don't own Lucy, Tumnus, or anything, really, in Part One. I get to own more stuff as the book progresses... but for now, I own nothing; I am simply a phanphiction hobo.

Chapter Two:

What was at the Lamp-Post

It was not a long walk to the corner store, partially due to the fact that no snow was descending, which left his umbrella to be useless. When he arrived at the store and shaken the snow off his hooves, he felt a twang of loneliness. Since the Long Winter began, everything had been drenched in greyness and hostility. Visits to the corner store, once a lovely stroll in summer, now became something to find an excuse for. It was awfully chilled inside, what with the cracks in the plaster walls, and the old dwarf who ran it had grown an encasing of ice around his heart, just like everything in Narnia.

Ankney, the dwarf, hobbled to his customer. 'What is it you'll be looking for, then?' snapped he. 'Get it and begone!'

Tumnus smiled uncertainly at the dwarf, realised it was fruitless, and sighed. 'I'll be needing some cakes, I suppose.' He furrowed his brow in thought. 'Also some tea, and sardines please.'

Ankney grunted, then bustled behind the counter. He brought out an abundance of the items requested and slammed then on the table surface like he was furious with the food. 'That should be enough, I'd warrant.' Without waiting for a reply, the dwarf shoved them into five boxes and tidily wrapped them into brown paper. A line of musty-looking twine was wrapped around each, and Ankney then pushed the parcels across the counter to Tumnus. 'Take them, faun, and go!'

Tumnus wasted not a moment. In seconds, he found himself out of the shop again. He got an unsurprising feeling that he was more welcome in the forest than in the old store. Sighing, the faun set a grim smile to his face and began the trek to his own home, where a friendly hearth awaited him.

Perhaps no more than five minutes through his walk, Tumnus stumbled upon a crossroads. One, he was very well familiar with, led to his own den; a long mile more comforting than a excess time in the tangled woods. The other, one he was not one to usually follow, wound its way to a lamp-post just on the outskirts of Narnia. Eventually, it, too, carried travellers to his home, though it was a bit of a longer route. And today, for a reason unknown to him, he felt a desire pounding in his head to go the long path. For no reason in particular, just for the senselessness of it.

Really, he knew why he wanted to take the other path. He loved the lamp-post that was on the journey. It was a strange thing indeed; there was nothing in Narnia like it, and it had a strange surrounding to it that Tumnus found enchanting.

With a resolved first stomp, he meandered over the small road now smothered in wintery whiteness. It was not a long time before he reached the lamp-post, and he was greatly looking forward to sitting under its base all alone, just thinking.

Except. . . someone was already under the lamp-post.

❦

The person beneath the lamp turned at the sound of Tumnus's approaching footfalls.

She screamed.

Tumnus dropped his parcels in surprise and let out a cry of astonishment.

She shrieked.

Tumnus yelped.

The person hid behind the lamp-post, just as Tumnus leapt behind a tree.

. . . Silence.

The faun panted behind the huge maple. Who _was _that female, who screamed on sight of a passerby? Or . . . _what_ was that female?

In the few seconds that he'd caught sight of her, he knew that she was not a Dryad, the nymphs of the earth, nor was she Nyiad, of the well nymphs. Besides, she was far too young to be a woman. A thought flew across his mind. _Certainly not,_ he reasoned with himself. _She's not . . . She can't be . . ._

But the more he pondered about it, the more curious he became, and he couldn't help but poke his head around the tree to look at her, only to find her already emerged from the lamp-post and coming to inspect _him._

Tumnus stepped out and took one look at the small body of the figure before him, and found a curious fascination drape over him. She was little, very little. _A child,_ thought he, and felt a surge of happiness right through him. Yet she had a strange aura of foreignness about her, as if she had come from somewhere that was not at all like where she was. Yet as he looked her up and down, the more sure of it he was.

'Hello,' said the girl, bending down to pick up his parcels.

'Well... hello,' said Tumnus, still ever so short of breath from her sudden appearance. He found himself bent down close to the ground beside her, picking up the otherwise unharmed boxes. When they were all in his arms safe as birds in a nest, he straightened to his full height (which you and I both know was not much under the conditions of being a faun) and couldn't help but smile at the girl's innocent face. He licked his lips and began: 'Forgive me. I . . .' he looked at her again, tranfixed.

'Are you a faun?' she asked. The girl seemed to be as fascinated with him as he was her.

'Yes. Ah . . .' He couldn't quite find the correct words. 'Yes, yes, of course. And are you . . .' he paused. 'Are you a Daughter of Eve?' Tumnus felt foolish for even so much as thinking the words.

A rather flummoxed expression flitted about her glowing face. 'My mother's name is Helen,' she offered, as if hoping that would clear things up a bit. 'And I'm Lucy.'

Tumnus grinned and allowed himself a small chuckle. 'No, I _meant _. . . Are you . . . That is to say, are you Human?'

'Of course I'm human.'

'You are, in fact, a girl?' Tumnus could hardly believe his own ears.

'Of course I'm a girl,' she giggled softly.

Tumnus broke out into all smiles and proffered, 'Well _I, _Lucy,am Tumnus.'

Lucy smiled and . . . was that a laugh? "It's very nice to meet you, Mr Tumnus.' And then she did a quite odd thing. She held out her hand, palms to the side, and smiled at him. At the look on the faun's face it seemed that she had just remembered something. 'Oh, you shake it,' said Lucy, meaning, of course, her hand.

Tumnus frowned at smiled at the same time. 'Why?'

It was as if a light had suddenly shon in her mind. 'I don't know!' she exclaimed.

He smiled uncertainly, a bit confused at her confusion, and brought out a timid left hand to grasp her first two fingers. He moved her hand up and down.

Lucy laughed again. Tumnus was aware of the strange reaction he had when she laughed. It was a beautiful sound when children laughed, nearly like the tinkling of bells and music, but he became aware of his stronger reaction when she was happy.

But how was he to address her? He thought for the briefest of thoughts and decided upon a title. 'And may I ask, O Lucy Daughter of Eve,' Tumnus said grandly, upturning the her lips once again, 'how have you come into Narnia?' For, truly, she couldn't have been here all along. The White Witch would've put a change in that, certainly.

Before, he never could have possible supposed her answer. 'Narnia? What's that?'

Tumnus's eyes widened slightly. 'Why, _this _is the land of Narnia, where we stand upon at this moment! From the lamp-post all the way to the castle Cair Paravel on the Eastern Sea.' The words _Cair Paravel_ stirred in his mind briefly, then lay dormant once more.

'I . . .' the girl began. 'I just walked in through the wardrobe in the spare room!'

'Oh dear,' Tumnus sighed as he racked his memory. 'If only I had studied geography a bit harder when I was young. I don't seem to have heard of this land, _War Drobe_, nor the country of _Spare Oom_."

She laughed out loud, delighted. 'But they're not countries at all! It's just back there. At least, I think it is,' she looked the slightest bit stricken. Then she appeared to be sad. 'It's summer there.'

Oh, summer. Tumnus remembered summer. It was in summer that he'd sit under the trees of the Western Wood and play for his friends, the Dryads. Chrystmay, his good friend, often came down from the trees to dance for him. Oh, she was beautiful, with flowers woven through her long, black hair and her eyes shining with joy. But the Dryads had all retreated into their leafy boughs when Jadis had cast the Long Winter over Narnia, and those days were only memories now.

'Meanwhile,' he said, sorrowfully. 'it's winter here. It has been for ever so long.' Tumnus sighed at the fat, white flakes just beginning to fall. 'Always winter! and never Christmas! Think of that.'

'How awful,' said Lucy, Daughter of Eve, and she truly looked sympathetic.

'And, being winter,' said Tumnus, and up went his umbrella in response to the drifting snow. 'we shall both catch our death of cold if we stand here in the snow, jabbering on while there's warmth waiting. Daughter of Eve, how would you like to come to my den and have tea with me?' How grand would that be! sitting in his parlour, feasting upon seed cakes and tea with his new friend.

'Oh!' exclaimed Lucy. 'Thank you, Mr Tumnus, but I really should . . .' she looked over her shoulder to something Tumnus could not see although he strained his eyes to do so.

'But it's only just around the corner,' said the faun, with hope and excitement in his eyes. 'And there will be a roaring fire waiting for us – and toast – and cakes – and perhaps we'll even break into the sardines!' He held out his arm for the girl to take, but she did not. Lucy was once more about to verbally decline – Tumnus could see that – but one glance at him, and she was smiling again.

Thus, arm in arm with the umbrella above, they began the path to Tumnus's home.

It was only moments later when Tumnus was struck by an evil promise given long ago – he must take this child to the White Witch.


	3. Part 1: A Narnia Lullaby

My first phanphic, so be merciful, I beg of you!

Rating subject to change, might go up to T for violence in later chappies

SUMMARY:

Part One: Basically, Tumnus' story of his friendship with Lucy.

Part Two: Their friendship after Lucy becomes Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia.

Part Three: Lucy and Tumnus reunite many years later, and how their friendship progresses into love.

Disclaimer: I don't own Lucy, Tumnus, or anything, really, in Part One. I get to own more stuff as the book progresses... but for now, I own nothing; I am simply a phanphiction hobo.

I really must apologise for this chapter. I found it not as Narnia-like as it should be (or, I shall say in my defense, it shows more of the 'White Witch' side of Narnia).

Chapter Three:

A Narnia Lullaby

Whilst Tumnus was fixing tea, the vow he made to the White Witch pounded through his mind in throbbing, hammering, guilt (though he was not sure the guilt was for his duty to Jadis or Lucy). He turned around to the child, who was sitting in the chair that was always empty. That chair was always for friends, back when summer still lived to bring felicity. When Ankney was jovial and kind, when the Dryads roamed about the forest freely, when one could stroll about the Western Woods with the smell of rain hanging in the morning mist.

Tumnus sat in the other chair and told Lucy exactly those tales. He told her of Chrystmay, his good friend the Dryad, how ironically serious the centaurs could be. He told Lucy tales that his father had told him as a lad, and shared some of his own memories: the apple tree that once grew outside that very den, when Tumnus had carved his own wooden flute. At that memory, his mind twinged with conscience of how he should or shouldn't be playing Lucy to sleep at this moment ( he couldn't quite lay his fate on either, or Lucy's, for that matter).

He enjoyed what time he shared with her, in any case. Lucy told him stories of her home back in War Drobe, of some thing or another called a _blitz_, her mother and all of the Pevensie family. She spoke with such an incredible fondness of this land and everything in it that Tumnus was drawn to it with a certain surreal familiarity, as if he, too, lived in the country of Spare Oom and shared her very memories.

The faun watched her with an unusual combination of fascination, pride, and anger. Pride and fascination were towards Lucy, as if she were his own child. Anger he saved for himself, still but split in two between duty and heart.

For an hour at the very least they exchanged tale after tale, as if each were trying to have the other live their past. Tumnus once said with tears in his voice, 'Oh, I remember the day the Long Winter began. I was young, so very young.' He closed his eyes and frowned in grief.

'Please,' prodded Lucy. 'Don't stop.'

'I was walking with my father,' Tumnus said in a quieter voice. 'I remember only the smallest bit of a memory; a breeze was at our feet – it was unnatural, and completely silent. My father told me to turn around, go home, but I wouldn't. He was hysterical, and kept telling me that I needed to go inside.' Tumnus clutched his hands together. 'I wouldn't. And then . . . Then it started to snow. I was young, naïve. Absolutely spellbound by the snow. But my father . . . I realised later that my father sensed something that was not quite right all along. When it snowed, my father fell to the ground and –' Tumnus looked out the window into emptiness. 'he cried.' Tumnus blinked and then looked directly at Lucy. 'He died the next day. Out of grief, I suppose.'

Lucy allowed him time to drown in memory before raising her voice. 'There is one thing that I don't understand. Why is it always winter here, in this land? What _made _it winter?'

Tumnus sighed and perched himself on his goat knees. 'Always winter, and never Christmas. It would be quite more bearable if only Christmas came once in a while. Alas, but that's wishful thinking. It is the White Witch's doing.'

Lucy shuddered, though she had no knowledge as to why the name scared her so. 'Who is she?'

At the simple inquiry, Tumnus's face altered. His face was shadowed and his eyes were dullcast. 'She lives in a castle just east of where we are now, nestled between two hills. The Witch drives a silver sledge and carries a wand . . . A wand like a dagger; sharp, and even more dangerous.' When Lucy asked what dangers were in this wand, Tumnus shivered and answered not.

For a few moments, they said nothing. Lucy daintily ate her cake and sardines properly, like a lady, but Tumnus smiled, for she was still so childish.

The kettle sang out one shrill note, and Tumnus bustled to the fireplace to pour two cups of tea. 'How do you like your tea?' he murmured to Lucy over the curling steam and smoke.

'Two lumps and milk, please, Mr Tumnus.' She was trying to be grown-up again. Tumnus didn't resist smiling while he gave Lucy the tea. She was a pretty one, that was for certain, this new friend of his. He wouldn't give her up to the Witch, he _couldn't_, if he had any honorable blood in his body. In spite of his fondness of the girl, he found himself fingering curiously at the box Jadis had left him.

And would come of the deed if he opened it and played for the girl? If it was like any other pipe, she surely wouldn't fall asleep instantly. The thought was easily dismissed. Suppose he played for her only shortly. Should she sleep in that time, Tumnus could change his mind anytime and wake her, then see her safely to wherever her destination be, as long as it was a reasonable walking distance. For a last moment traced the carvings on the box, then lifted off the lid in solid decision. The stupidity crossed his mind again of how he hadn't the dimmest idea how to play it.

'Now,' Tumnus said cordially as he sat straight in his chair. 'Do you know any Narnian lullabies?'

Lucy – sweet, innocent Lucy – took another sip of tea and smiled apologetically. 'No.'

'Good.' Tumnus grinned. 'Because _this_,' he raised the flute to his lips, 'probably won't sound anything like one.'

The tune that came to the flute was not at all the sort of lullaby that he'd intended. Still, Lucy's eyelids drooped somnolently at the first note. The music was enigmatic and dark, but mostly, the tune was riddled with danger. As he played each note louder and more hauntingly, he stared intently at the child's face, while she raptly gazed into the fire. What was it that she saw?

Still playing, Tumnus looked into the flames to see wraithlike figures emerge from the fireplace. They swam effortlessly through the air toward him, singing beautifully, temptingly. Lucy gasped and tore her eyes to the faun, but he couldn't stray his watching pupils from the spirits. The flute had given him an unearthly strength to keep playing that darkness, and as spirits and wraiths surrounded him, Tumnus knew that it was _he _controlling them with that tune.

In that moment, Tumnus was consumed by wickedness.

The vulnerable child before him was the victim, his own prey. He could've derisively laughed with sick pleasure as the human was lilted into the mere illusion of safety that was sleep. The wraiths were his minions, his puppets, his slaves as they danced around her in malice. Spirits teemed about Tumnus, their master, the flute-bearer. Still the music played, becoming nothing less than utter evil. And Tumnus, the crazed and wild-eyed creature, was the ringleader of it all.

Chanting with increasing volume, the evil images drowned out the flute's music to nothing more than a haunting echo. The wraiths, smokelike and wispy, flew in and out of the human's mind, trailing a stream of nightmares behind them.

For hours they continued like this, purloining strength from the human creature. Limp and weak the girl became; her skin grew increasingly pale – all the while, she remained unaware in sleep. Each moment of it, Tumnus basked in the morbid greed of suffering while the flute continuously released dark echoes of music. And his slave-spirits taunted, chanted, clawed her hair and ears with bladed teeth.

Tumnus lived for it all, each moment, until he looked at her sleeping form. Really_ looked_ at her, sitting limply in innocence . . . and he felt compassion for her as he brimmed himself with disgrace. He knew to stop playing. But he was alarmed to discover that, no matter how he attempted to pry his fingers away, tried to shield his breath from entering the instrument, he physically _could not stop playing. _And the spirits . . . Once his minions, they now swarmed around him, pulsing demonic chants through his mind: inside, out, and back again. Tumnus knew they'd kill him – and kill Lucy.

'_No!'_

Tumnus wrenched himself up and tore the flute from his lips as the instrument fell to the carpeted ground. Hissing and shrieking, the wraiths bared their claws and teeth. In one fluid movement, they flew into a river of the damned and latched themselves to Tumnus's scalp. He howled in harsh agony and reached for his back where the wraiths were spreading. The faun grabbed fistfuls of the spitting creatures, but it was otiose in the face of a thousand minuscule knives breaking into his skin, tearing apart his eyelids, uprooting tufts of his hair. Music was nowhere but in the shrill cries of the spirits as they slowly murdered Tumnus. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as repressed garbles erupted from his throat. Unaware of where he was, what he was, Tumnus became only a spastic silhouette against the red fireplace.

Tumnus twitched everywhere as he hunched over in pain, but his eyes in some unknown way found a path of vision to the angry hearth flames.

There was a shape in the fire, forming, and Tumnus found that he couldn't avert his sight. The image was growing, evolving into something unspecified. His eyes widened as he jumped back, and a great, flaming lion jumped out of the fireplace, releasing his lungs fully into a thunderous roar.

Tumnus shouted out in pain as the sound of high-pitches cries endlessly vibrated into his ears, sounding like the throng of a thousand off-pitch violins. The wraiths' grip loosened on his body, and Tumnus fell into corner of the room. A colossal wind swept through the room, snuffing every candle and even silencing the sputtering hearth fire while Tumnus shivered in the nook, jerking violently. His hallucinations – the spirits – writhed on the ground, screeching horribly, entirely unseen by the sleeping girl or the faun, until one by one they silenced, going up in soundless wisps of smoke.

Tumnus stopped twitching. He lay there in a curled and frightened ball, panting in fear of what had happened . . . and what he'd nearly done.


	4. Part 1: An Act Forgiven

My first phanphic, so be merciful, I beg of you!

SUMMARY:

Part One: Basically, Tumnus' story of his friendship with Lucy.

Part Two: Their friendship after Lucy becomes Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia.

Part Three: Lucy and Tumnus reunite many years later, and how their friendship progresses into love.

Disclaimer: I don't own Lucy, Tumnus, or anything, really, in Part One. I get to own more stuff as the book progresses... but for now, I own nothing; I am simply a phanphiction hobo.

This chapter is extremely short in comparison to the others. It's not much of a chapter, really, but would make the previous too long, and would not be rightly placed in Chapter Five. It's just a bridge between the two.

Chapter Four:

An Act Forgiven

Tumnus was still lying in the corner in utter darkness when he heard stirring. He remained motionless, hoping she would just leave – leave and dismiss him from her mind. But he heard the footsteps and knew that wouldn't occur, it mattered not what he hoped.

The human girl came into view, her face murky in the dark. 'Why, Mr Tumnus!' she cried at the sight of him hiding in the corner and fear written all across his face. 'Whatever is the matter?'

'Oh – oh!' He wept softly, whispering the words: 'I'm such a bad faun.'

'Mr Tumnus,' consoled Lucy. 'what have you done?'

'It's not what I've _done_,' He moaned. 'It's what I'm _doing_.' He felt a pang of anguish in his heart as Lucy stepped back.

'Mr Tumnus . . . What is it?'

The words were colder to Tumnus than spoken aloud to the girl, unforgivable and ever-lingering:

'I'm kidnaping you.'

Lucy stepped back once more, into a beam of light from the window, and Tumnus could see her face clearly. Her face was sad, her voice wavering. 'I thought you were my friend,' said Lucy, sadly and dispiritedly accusing.

A single shining tear quavered in her eye, threatening to fall.

Mr. Tumnus stared directly into her bitter eyes as they shared an understanding that is impossible for this writer to verbalise.

Before she, or even Tumnus, knew what was happening, they were both out in the snow and black coldness. The faun tugged on her hand, dragging her along through the winter and whispering in haste words that she had no time to ponder upon.

'Mr Tumnus!' she shrieked. 'Stop, please!'

'No time,' he mumbled profusely. 'Have to be quiet . . . Even the trees, some of the trees . . .'

'Mr Tumnus, please don't kidnap me!'

Tumnus turned around to face her and bent down to meet her eye level. 'I could never do that, Lucy. I can see that now. But we must hurry.'

And before Lucy could say another word, they were off again. Leaping over roots and unidentifiable lumps covered by a layer of white they ran in a panicked rush. They slowed as Lucy saw a light above and ahead. _The lamp-post_, she realised when the run stopped into a clearing. Tumnus reduced to her eye level again. 'Now Lucy, Daughter of Eve, do you think you can find your way back from here?'

Lucy looked over his shoulder to the cluster of trees where she'd entered Narnia. 'I'm sure I can.'

Tumnus bit his lip as he looked at her child-face, and burst into an absurd bout of tears.

'Mr Tumnus, it'll be all right,' Lucy consoled, bringing a monogram handkerchief out of her pocket and handing it to the faun. Tumnus took it and buried his face within it, weeping hysterically.

'Oh, Lucy, Lucy,' he moaned. 'Please . . . can you ever forgive me for what I've done? For what I was going to do?'

'Of course I can.' Lucy smiled in attempt to solace his detonation of tears.

Tumnus straightened a little bit. 'I apologise. I shouldn't have ever done such a thing.'

'It's all right!' she promised. Tumnus gave a weak smile and handed her the damp handkerchief.

'Oh no, Mr Tumnus. You can keep it.'

Tumnus was taken aback by this act of forgiveness and wrung the square of cloth in his hands. 'Thank you.' He laughed shakily. 'I expect I'll be needing it rather more.' Lucy smiled, but Tumnus shoved her lightly ahead. 'Go, now. I don't know if it's safe here, now.'

Lucy stepped forward, then called over her shoulder, waving, 'Goodbye, Mr Tumnus!' She disappeared behind a gathering of trees before he could respond.

'Goodbye, Lucy Pevensie,' he whispered, and began the lonely, silent walk back to his den.

She had forgiven him.

The words resounded in his memory again and again. _She'd forgiven him! _After the horrible deed, the horrible intentions, she'd forgiven him. The child was so kind, so forgiving, and so completely wonderful. It seemed almost eerie that a child should be so adult in her actions. Yes, there was indeed something special about the Pevensie girl. She... she had. . .

_She _had seen _him _cry, and comforted him like . . . Well, like he was a child.

Tumnus was amazed and bewildered about this one fact. For what was, perhaps, the first time in his life, he'd cried in front of a child.

Perhaps this was why he became suddenly drawn to her as he went about his usual tasks when he'd returned home. Normally inevitably dull chores became a different, as though it was not he, Tumnus the Faun, doing the work. _He had met a human. A true Daughter of Eve. And they were friends._

As he watched the flame return to the fireplace, he remembered with a sting of regret how he'd seen her suffer so. His wandering eyes landed upon the wooden flute, remaining in its place on the floor. With angry bitterness, he picked it up with ginger fingers and tossed it into the hearth.

It was consumed instantly by fire.


	5. Part 1: Friend and Foe

I don't like this chapter much, it isn't very Narnia-like, either. I hope you enjoy, however.

My first phanphic, so be merciful, I beg of you!

SUMMARY:

Part One: Basically, Tumnus' story of his friendship with Lucy.

Part Two: Their friendship after Lucy becomes Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia.

Part Three: Lucy and Tumnus reunite many years later, and how their friendship progresses into love.

Disclaimer: I don't own Lucy, Tumnus, or anything, really, in Part One. I get to own more stuff as the book progresses... but for now, I own nothing; I am simply a phanphiction hobo.

Chapter Five:

Friend and Foe

In the next month, Tumnus reflected in thought that the meeting had been naught but a dream. For how else could he have possibly met a Daughter of Eve, and remain unpunished by the White Witch? Oh, if she knew of the girl, Jadis would've surely done something terrible. Saw off his horns, perhaps, and sever his tail, pluck out his beard (what little of one he had), or wave her wand and change his lovely cloven hoofs into horribly solid hoofs like a horse's. And, supposing she was especially angry with him, she might turn him even to stone!

Tumnus shuddered, now safely in his own home and comfortable chair. But she _hadn't _found anything out about it, praise Aslan, and it had been an entire moon since Lucy had come and gone. And it _hadn't _been a dream, for Tumnus still kept in his possession the handkerchief which Lucy had bestowed to him.

On occasional occurrence, Tumnus would get a blast of guilt for letting the idea so much as enter his head to turn her in to the White Witch. He'd try to ease himself by playing his own flute, but that reminded him most dreadfully of lulling the poor child to sleep, and he grimaced and put down his flute.

Since he couldn't rid himself of the all-present feeling in him, he reasoned with himself that the feeling would fade over time. He supposed his life would go like this: He would spend perhaps another week feeling regretful, then come up with some witty proverb that would make him feel all right. That would leave him to remembering the short friendship with the girl and the token of her handkerchief. He supposed he would one day lose the handkerchief, and then he'd have nothing but memories, but those would fade, too; for life was meant to be lived joyfully in the present, and not to dwell on what has been, and the Long Winter would continue.

But you and I both know quite well that life never goes as planned, and certainly not in this case, for we both know that Tumnus did not live his life like that, and the Long Winter absolutely did not continue for too long of a time. And Tumnus, too, became aware of that, not a month after he'd met Lucy.

She came to knock on his front door.

It was only a normal day for Tumnus the Faun, for the sun had not yet reached high noon. He'd thought nothing of Lucy yet that day, and was living in each moment.

When there was a knock on the door, Tumnus answered it, jolly as Father Christmas himself, without so much as knowing who was on the other side.

'Lucy!'

'Hello, Mr Tumnus,' said Lucy, smiling. 'I do hope I haven't interrupted anything–'

'Why, not at all!' Tumnus let loose a grin larger than he ever had. 'Please come in! What a pleasant surprise.' As Lucy stepped one booted foot through the doorframe, Tumnus searched nervously outside to see if any of the Witch's spies were about. There were none to be seen, and thus he closed the door.

'Sit down, sit down,' he offered to Lucy. 'I was just getting some tea ready. Is chamomile quite all right with you?'

'It sounds wonderful.' Lucy sank into the chair reserved specially for friends as Tumnus busied about getting another cup and saucer.

When the tea had been prepared and they were both sitting comfortably eating butter cookies, Tumnus observed Lucy's apparel and exclaimed, 'Why, Lucy! your wearing your dressing gown!'

Lucy looked down. 'Oh yes. I suppose I am.' She laughed out loud, and Tumnus gave a slight chuckle as well. 'I'm sorry for that, it's just that . . . well, it's nighttime where I come from.' Lucy frowned, and Tumnus suspected there was something else on her mind than wearing her nightclothes.

'What's the matter, Lucy?' Tumnus said in what he hoped was a gentle tone.

The girl sighed. 'Oh,' she said fretfully. 'So many things.'

'Would you tell me?'

'Yes.' Lucy pondered. 'I suppose the best place to start would be by saying that War Drobe is not a city, at least, it isn't one where I come from.'

'Oh dear,' said Tumnus. 'Pray tell, what is it?'

'It's . . . sort of like a closet.'

Tumnus frowned. 'You live in a closet?'

'No, that's not what I mean!' Lucy moaned in frustration. Tumnus gave her time to collect herself. 'I'm sorry Mr Tumnus, I shouldn't have shouted. It's just that so many things are going wrong. I had to leave my home and my mother and stay in a big empty house with a Professor whom I haven't even met yet. And the wardrobe is, as I said, like a big closet. I was playing a game and went into the closet to hide, except . . . Except I came to Narnia instead. I don't know any other way to put it. There wasn't a back to the closet, I just kept walking and Narnia was there instead of a wall. Does that make any sense?'

'Sometimes,' Tumnus said, smiling 'The things which make the most sense are the things which shouldn't make sense at all. Keep going.'

'All right. Well, then I came and met you and had a lovely time, but then I went back to my world, and my brothers and sister didn't even notice I was gone. And I looked at the clock and noticed that even though I'd been in Narnia for hours and hours, not even a second went by while I was gone!'

Tumnus's eyes widened. 'Surely, it must have been a trick your siblings played on you.'

'No, it wasn't. And I told them all about Narnia and you, and they _still_ didn't believe me. So then I brought them back to the wardrobe so they could come and see that I _wasn't _lying, but then . . . I don't know, Narnia wasn't there anymore. There was a back wall in the closet instead of just walking into the woods. And Edmund, my brother, was the worst of it. He keeps making fun of me for seeing things, but I _didn't_, Mr Tumnus, it was all real!'

'Of course it was,' said Tumnus rationally. 'But people don't always believe what they hear. They have to see it for themselves to believe it.'

'And I had to make sure it was real, so I'm sorry for bursting in uninvited, but I had to.'

'You're always welcome in my den, so long as you don't go wandering too far to places you don't know. The Witch's spies are everywhere; you ought to be careful.' Tumnus's face went very white at the thought.

'Are you all right, Mr Tumnus?'

'Lucy, I'm sorry. I still haven't forgiven myself for . . . for kidnapping you. After all this time, I still feel awful. Are you quite sure you still want to be friends?'

'Yes, I do,' said Lucy firmly. 'And it wasn't such a long time ago, as you're making it out to be. Just a day.'

'A day?' Mr Tumnus frowned. 'No, Lucy, I haven't seen you for nearly a month.'

Lucy scratched her head ponderously as she thought. 'I reckon it might have something to do with a time difference,' she said at last. 'How I'd been here for hours, but no time had passed when I went back. Do you imagine it could be something like that?'

'It could, I'll say nothing against that,' said Tumnus. 'In fact, that sounds perfectly correct.'

'I think–' Lucy began, but her words were lost to the large yawn that overtook her. She ended the yawn and shook her head. 'I'm sorry, Mr Tumnus, I'm just so tired. It's very late back in England and–'

'Perhaps you should go home,' Tumnus said with the tiniest trace of reluctance that he allowed to seep into his words. 'I've kept you for quite some time. Would you like me to see you to the lamp-post?'

'No, that's all right.' Lucy stood. 'Thank you for the tea, Mr Tumnus. I had a splendid time.'

Tumnus stood and held the door as she left. 'I'll come back as soon as I can, Mr Tumnus.'

'I'll look forward to it.' Tumnus watched her retreating form plod onward through the snow, then turned back inside and closed the door behind him.

Not more than an hour later, another sound struck hard on the brass doorknocker. Tumnus, hoping it was Lucy, opened the door as cheerily as before, but his face fell as the true reality hit him.

A trio of wolves, snarling and baring their yellow fangs faced him. Tumnus was frozen in fear and could hardly react when they all lunged menacingly for him. The faun jumped back and gave a hearty push to the oak door (which was meaningless, as they were already in the foyer) and stumbled into his parlour. The beasts leapt onto tables and chairs, biting and clawing them to splinters just to see Tumnus's terrified expression. He couldn't deflect his vision from them, nor could he turn and run for his own life, and he was in this way backed into corner after corner in pure and utter fright.

One wolf, who appeared to be the leader growled particularly loudly and hissed, 'Enough of this!' He attacked the faun head-on with such force that they both fell to the floor. Tumnus shouted in pain as the animal's claws dug into the skin over his bare chest, trailing deep gashes, and his head felt heavy and dizzy from the knock to the ground.

'You are hereby arrested in the name of Jadis, Queen of Narnia,' rumbled the wolf, and Tumnus's eyes rolled back into his head. His head solidly fell to the carpet as his mind fell into an unconscious void, and the wolves dragged him into the snow.


	6. Part 1: The Wrath of the Witch

Warning: This chapter is quite short in comparison to others, as well as the following shall be. This is also a bit violent, but I tried to keep it mild because . . . Well, C.S. Lewis was a _children's_ author, and it would be rather a shame to counter his legend.

My first phanphic, so be merciful, I beg of you!

SUMMARY:

Part One: Basically, Tumnus' story of his friendship with Lucy.

Part Two: Their friendship after Lucy becomes Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia.

Part Three: Lucy and Tumnus reunite many years later, and how their friendship progresses into love.

Disclaimer: I don't own Lucy, Tumnus, or anything, really, in Part One. I get to own more stuff as the book progresses... but for now, I own nothing; I am simply a phanphiction hobo.

Chapter Six:

The Wrath of the Witch

The only thing Tumnus was aware of upon his awakening was the hammering throb at his scalp and the bitter cold air surrounding him. As he softly clutched his head, moaning softly, more became visible to his unfocused eyes. A short distance away was an unappealing lump of dry bread and a mug of murky water, which Tumnus took to be no more than melted snow. The frigidity must be on account that he was captive in a prison of blue-green ice. Tumnus shivered and sat up, only to hear the metal _clang _of chains at his feet. He sat and moved away from the four ice walls surrounding him, then grasped his goat legs and hugged them to his body.

Just two things seemed to bring him comfort; the fact that he was generally unharmed, save for the long, thin scabs on his chest and the headache that pounded with every heartbeat, and that the red muffler was still round his neck.

It was not long at all before he heard the thud of angry footsteps, and a door of ice opened into his cell.

'You _fool!_' screamed a cold voice, and before he knew what happened, he felt a force collide with his ribcage and he slid on the icy floor into a corner. He looked up to see the infuriated face of the White Witch looming above him.

'How _dare _you!' she boomed. 'Did you think I wouldn't find out? Did you honestly have the stupidity to think I wouldn't catch you? _You disobeyed your queen, faun, and for that you shall pay dearly! _Now ANSWER ME! _Why did you not bring me the Human creature?'_

'Your Majesty, I beg you!' Tumnus cried. 'I had –' but whatever the faun meant to say after that, we'll never know. For at that very moment, Tumnus was changed. He stopped cringing and stood up valiantly, looking the White Witch square in the eye. 'I did not bring you the Human,' he said, slowly and boldly, 'because I did what was right. I don't make it a priority to hunt for power, I don't kill anyone who stands in my way. I did something honest by not giving you the Human, something kind. Not that you'd know what justice means, for you are a heartless beast, and I haven't sunk to your level of scum yet.'

The Witch's eyes widened, and she brought out a steel-toed boot from beneath her gown and shot it into Tumnus's stomach. He gasped for air, but there wasn't time before another blow was aimed into his knee. He toppled to the glacial ground. She continued like this – brutal, savage, and vicious, until he was bruised all over and it was agonizing to breathe. The Witch lingered for only moments after her beating, then turned and left abruptly.

She returned at dawn. 'Tell me where the Humans are, faun!' she hissed. 'Tell me, and I might spare your life!' Each day she came back, screaming the same thing, and Tumnus would never give in to her beatings and whippings.

He learned many things as the Witch's prisoner. First, that his rations were meager and pathetically restricted, so what little food came his way must be eaten. Second, that the Witch became angrier with bold answers and thus gave more fierce beatings, but he continued, for she'd usually become so angry that she wouldn't return for days. He later noticed that there was another cell joined with his and separated by a wall, but there was a large gap between the two. Not a soul occupied this cell, but it was somewhat of a comfort someone might fill it eventually, and then he would have a friend to spend the long, lonely hours with, knowing that he wasn't suffering alone.

He stayed like this – cold, wounded, hungry, but still faithful to his friendship with Lucy – for weeks, Tumnus didn't bother to record how many. It was on a particularly good day (for prison that is, having being fed and not yet beaten) that the cell door opened and a plate with bread and water was thrown in . . . but in the other cell. Seconds later, a figure followed it, being flung against the far wall. Tumnus felt his heart leap into his throat. _That shock of dark hair, the small height _. . . the being turned its head so that Tumnus could see its profile. _The nose! I know that nose. _Was it truly Lucy?

The prisoner groaned in pain, and Tumnus understood that it was not her, it was a boy. . . yet he _was_, indeed, Human. The faun longingly stared at the food just out of his reach.

'Are you going to eat that?' he asked the Human.

It seemed that the boy had not before noticed the faun there, and was so taken aback that he said 'No.' Tumnus crawled forward and seized the bread, biting massive chunks of it. He watched the Human as he ate, and a theory flitted across his mind.

'You're Lucy Pevensie's brother, aren't you?' The boy nodded. Tumnus's mind suddenly went blank. 'You have the same nose,' he said, to fill the silence. He ate more, then continued. 'Peter or Edmund?'

The Pevensie boy started. 'What?'

'Are you Peter or Edmund?' Tumnus repeated.

'Er . . . Edmund.'

'Oh.' Tumnus kept eating. Edmund was the bully, from what Lucy had told him.

Edmund watched Tumnus as he reached for the mug of water. 'You're the faun,' said he.

'Oh. Yes,' he said, and managed to stop any more crumbs of bread from entering his mouth. He'd want more later. 'How is Lucy?' asked Tumnus. 'Is she all right? Is she safe?'

Edmund seemed to be pondering upon this matter. Finally, he said, 'I don't know if she will be.'

Tumnus's heart stopped beating. Edmund could see the fear for his sister welling up in the faun's eyes. Tumnus could hardly breathe, but he spoke. 'What –'

He was cut off by the sound of approaching footsteps. Tumnus, knowing a beating was well on its way, scuttled into the nearest corner and hid the bread behind his mass. The door opened with an echoing _bang! _and Tumnus cringed, covering his head. He could hear the Witch's voice, angrier and louder than ever. The faun remained in that position until he agnized that the voice was not directed at him. He raised his quivering head to meet the sight of his feet being unchained, and his door unlocked by the Witch's dwarf.

'Get up,' the Witch spat at him, and the dwarf thrust him to the ground once more. 'Do you know why you're here, faun?' she asked, using silver, slippery tones.

Tumnus looked courageously into her eyes. 'Because I believe,' he spoke firmly 'in a free Narnia.' The Witch kicked him, and Tumnus did nothing more than grunt.

'You're here,' she said briskly, and pointed her dagger-wand at the trembling Edmund. 'because _he _turned you in for sweeties!'

Tumnus jerked his head at Edmund, only to see his expression verifying this. Guilt and rejected apology were knit into his eyebrows, his eyes shining with it. This boy, this traitor . . . he was a shame to Lucy. Tumnus bit his lower lip, amethyst purple from the cold and tried to hold back tears. He'd bet anything that this Human turned in Lucy, too. He looked at the Witch, trying to stare her down in anger, but found the tears spilling down his face in rivers. Jadis smirked, and Tumnus saw for the first time that her eyes had no iris. They were a solid void of blackness, a reflection of her heart.

The dwarf jerked him to his hoofs and shoved him cruelly down the corridor, but Tumnus paid no notice. As the frozen hallways blurred behind him, Tumnus was devoured by fear for Lucy. She could be dead, she could be enslaved to the Witch, or in another lifeless cell being beaten to death. He was hardly aware of it when the dwarf stopped him in a stone hallway to face ahead. The faun stared blankly ahead at a point that he couldn't quite locate, even though it was right before his very eyes.

His clear path of vision was invaded when the White Witch stepped directly in front of him. Tumnus started, but the Witch glared at him with those black eyes.

"Now, you shall truly know _pain!_" she cried, and brought forth her wand. A great, spontaneous wind appeared from the depths of her dark castle and knifed right through Tumnus. He shouted in freezing pain, closed his eyes tightly and held up his hands to stop the gust –

But none could cease the deed that was looming upon his fate.


	7. Part 1: A Future Set in Stone

My first phanphic, so be merciful, I beg of you!

SUMMARY:

Part One: Basically, Tumnus' story of his friendship with Lucy.

Part Two: Their friendship after Lucy becomes Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia.

Part Three: Lucy and Tumnus reunite many years later, and how their friendship progresses into love.

Disclaimer: I don't own Lucy, Tumnus, or anything, really, in Part One. I get to own more stuff as the book progresses... but for now, I own nothing; I am simply a phanphiction hobo.

Chapter Seven

A Future Set in Stone

Tumnus couldn't move, there was simply no other way to put it. A solid freeze, beginning at his fingertips, seeped further into his body. It seared his skin like wild-fire and chilled him to the marrow. Tumnus knew not if the sensation was rapid or sluggish, only that he was acutely aware of the blood gushing each vein of his wrists go solid. The coldness crawled into every nerve, every hair, every cell. His eyes were shut tight therefore unawares of anything outside of the cold imprisonment he was locked inside of.

The sensation diffused through his legs and hoofs, sprawled into his arms. He felt each lung fill with emptiness and solidity, and the hardness crept through all veins to his heart. It snuck up his neck and into his face, where the real fear began its descent on him. His mouth, every tooth, every tastebud, each drop of saliva went solid. It closed over his ears and nose and – this was what scared Tumnus the most – swept over his locked eyes, oozing into any creases and skin folds and forever moulding his eyelids together. His brain immobilized, and one by one, all the vertebrae went out down his spine. In seconds, he'd become nothing more than stone.

And there he stayed, the stone faun, Tumnus.

Ever-present, a silence absorbed into his ears in and out, making him scream. But he could not scream, couldn't utter a single breath with that eternally shouting mouth that the curse of stone has nestled on him. Yet in the silence, there was music – horrible music. If broken glass had a voice, that would be it: the shrill wailing of hatred and fear.

Breathing was of no need to him, and as such, his lungs had been hushed on the moment of exhale. Those lungs were still inside his unmoving chest, fated to be forever in that crumpled position of pain to which there was no release. Tumnus longed to have air to breathe, yet there was only the solidness of rock.

Perhaps it was lucky that his eyes were closed when the stone had blanketed over his body, for he would've seen such atrocious things. Instead, he was granted a blessing: the blankness of no sight. His eyes were frozen to the lids, his pupils forever boring into a vast expanse, a Void, a Nothing.

He could no longer feel the air surrounding him, only the nullity pulsing through him. He lived in each hair, each cell. He was rock inside and out, but there was something storm-like tumbling in him. It crashed against the stone walls, fruitlessly attempting to free Tumnus from the unmoving fate he was caged in. Yet, in spite of the prison that was his own body, he was aware of every speck of movement in the wind outside of him, conscious of each breath the earth took. It was there before him, tantalizing and taunting, only a arm's length away, but he could never reach it.

A disgusting odour filled his nostrils in every moment, somewhat like rust and mildew. His heart was still, stopped in mid-beat, and he couldn't tell if his blood was stone as well, or flooding through each vein in a mud-like clotting of grey rock, or buzzing into ever artery and vein at the speed of light.

Thoughts were everywhere and nowhere, all confusion aside. He was rushing into the next new theory that flitted across his mind, yet his brain was only there: motionless and unburdened by thoughts. His mind pulsed with nonsense and insanity, but what he was thinking wasn't really _thinking_.

Time was, mayhap, filled with even more perplexity. He was at the very centre of time. Every second revolved around him, but he wasn't really _in_ time, so how could he be so important? One moment he was the eye of the storm, the next moment he was smaller than a speck of importance . . . but one moment didn't exist. One moment could have been eternity, and eternity was naught but the blink of an eye.

All of this whirled about in him, toppling and tumbling into ever fold of stony flesh. And then. . . A warmth, rustling his hair. . .


	8. Part 1: How the Statues Became Free

Narnia:

When Children Cry

My first phanphic, so be merciful, I beg of you!

SUMMARY:

Part One: Basically, Tumnus' story of his friendship with Lucy.

Part Two: Their friendship after Lucy becomes Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia.

Part Three: Lucy and Tumnus reunite many years later, and how their friendship progresses into love.

Disclaimer: I don't own Lucy, Tumnus, or anything, really, in Part One. Especially this chapter, I have way too much word-for-word stuff going ton. I get to own more as the book progresses... but for now, I own nothing; I am simply a phanphiction hobo.

Chapter Eight

How the Statues Became Free

. . . The feeling was comforting and was the color of amber . . . It felt something like the breath of wind or a baby's laugh. It soaked into his body, melting away the Witch's magic. He became more aware to time. His thoughts were becoming increasingly controlled by his own mind, and not the stone void. Sunlight was shining on him in golden music as he became reacquainted with life and warmth and felicity.

In seconds (they truly were seconds, he now could sense time) he was standing, blinking, in the Witch's cold hallway. But . . . she'd just been in front of him seconds before, where had she gone?

'Mr Tumnus?'

The awakened faun's movements were sharp, but not angry, as he searched his still foggy vision for the familiar voice's source. 'Lucy?' he called out weakly, hoping she'd answer.

'I'm here, Mr Tumnus.' And he felt something undoubtedly solid collide with his midriff and wrap its arms around him. Tumnus bent down cautiously and dared bring a hand to touch the blurry mass that he hoped was her face. 'Oh, Lucy!' He hugged the little girl with binding strength.

'Mr Tumnus, it's all right.' Lucy stepped out of the embrace and gingerly touched his cheek in childish console. The faun only then realised the leak of tears trickling down his face, and it brought back such thoughts and memories. He remembered the Witch's hostility to him, and he remembered Lucy comforting him when he'd first betrayed her. Tumnus concealed his wet face with his hands and sobbed out loud.

But Lucy was there, as she had been before, to clear away the clouds and let summer illuminate through him again. The little girl held out her handkerchief.

'Mr Beaver gave it back to me,' she said softly. 'But I still think you need it more. And I _do _hope you wash it soon, it'll have been well-used by now.'

A brief, shaking laugh flared from his mouth and he took her offering in his hands, then to his eyes. Yes, he had forgotten that he gave Mr Beaver the handkerchief. Tumnus was just too paranoid after Lucy's first visit. . . And he'd had a right to be.

When the handkerchief left its roost at his tears, his sight had cleared considerably and Tumnus returned the handkerchief to Lucy. 'No, love. It's yours.'

Lucy only smiled at Mr Tumnus. Tumnus smiled back, and they kept on smiling and being ever so happy that it was starting when Lucy spoke again.

'Oh, Mr Tumnus, I need to introduce you to . . . This is Susan, my sister.' Susan smiled and asked 'How do you do?' Tumnus supposed it was another greeting from Lucy's world and didn't ask 'Do what?', but he'd get Lucy to explain later. He instead proffered a quaking smile and shifted his gaze to the second figure in the room, and his heart froze in his throat. He didn't need Lucy's commentary to recognise the valiant animal before him.

'Aslan,' breathed Tumnus, and threw himself to the ground, kissing the Lion's paws. Aslan did nothing but stand patiently, for He was Patience. Tumnus sat up and looked into the Lion's eyes, although it scared him nearly to death. The way Aslan's gaze bore into his skull, Tumnus knew what he needed to say.

'Please, Aslan, I know I've done wrong. I should not have taken Lucy, and I should not have succumbed to the demands of Jadis. Please, Aslan, forgive me.' Tumnus bent down his head, not chancing to let the great King's gentle eyes lead to harsh words.

But that did not happen. 'It is not uncommon for fear to lead all other actions,' rumbled the Lion, and Tumnus felt sure that his legs would have given way, had he not been already kneeling. 'However, you seem to have discovered such things yourself, and you've renounced Jadis and all her doings. Love teaches us many things, and you've been brave, faun. I have seen your resistance to all of _her _evil, and by that, Tumnus, you've shown loyalty to Me and to Narnia. Your father, truly, would be proud.' A tremendous paw lifted off the stone floor and rested on the faun's head. 'You are forgiven, Tumnus, by Me, by yourself, and by all Narnia.' That gentle paw brushed off his head. 'And you must know by now, faun, that the Daughter of Eve has indeed forgiven you as well.'

Tumnus's eyes darted up to the great Lion, but He was padding away and meant for them to follow. And they did, with the girl and faun laughing and dancing together as only friends do.

There was an intoxicating scent on the air as his hoofs clipped on the stone floor. The sweet smell was streaming in ribbons of flowers and fruit and grass and tree-bark and warm air as it swam around the new Tumnus and sang to him a pretty tune . . .

'Lucy,' gasped he in amazement. 'It's summer.'

And summer it was! for the snow had vanished on the lush courtyards of the Witch's castle and there was a ring of golden chimes buzzing through the friendly breezes. When Tumnus emerged from the cold castle, he found himself in the lively yard of Jadis, which had only just previously held a multitude of statues. Now, summer had really come, for there were no statues and grey lingering, but a throng of colourful Talking Beasts and dwarfs and fauns and centaurs and unicorns and griffyns, all shouting and being merry. It was quite clear that they were all free . . . yet still jailed by the gates of the castle. It was all very well that Aslan, Lucy, and Susan had gotten _in_, (Lucy had just recently explained the ride on Aslan's back and how he'd entered on a leap over the gate) but how was everyone to get _out?_

Tumnus expressed his concern to Aslan, and the Lion let loose a gentle growl that could have been a chuckle. 'That'll be all right,' said Aslan; and perched on His hind legs. He roared up to the sole giant in the grassy yard, 'Oi! You up there! What is you're name?' Tumnus thought it a trifle risky having a giant abouts, but then Aslan was at ease, and that was surely a promise of safety. The giant replied that his name was Giant Rumblebuffin, and touched his cap in salute. A relief washed over Tumnus. All the Buffin giants were quite friendly, if not the brightest of creatures.

It was quite a shock, then, when Rumblefuffin brought out a massive club and began beating down the doors.

The giant kept at that for a good ten minutes, and when he'd finally stopped for a rest, there was a great haze of dust blocking the view. When it head cleared, it revealed paradise:

Narnia.

The grasses were nothing but the truest green, the sky sparkling and adorned with billowing white clouds, and the air drifting in through the fallen gates was sweet and pure.

The giant gasped. 'Blowed if I ain't all in a muck sweat,' puffed he in roughly uneducated tones. 'Comes of bein' out o' condition. I suppose neither of you young ladies here has such a thing as a pocket-handkerchee, has you?'

Lucy, who had pocketed the handkerchief when Mr Tumnus gave it back to her, held it up and stood on tiptoe. 'Yes, I have,' proffered the child.

'Much thanks, Missie,' said Giant Rumblebuffin, and stooped down low to pick it up. But in a flash, Lucy was up in the air between the giant's fingers.

At this time, Tmnus was quite angry, defencive, and not in a sort of mood you'd want to find a faun at-all, at-all. What in the Lion's Mane was this brute going to do with her? He started yelling things at that giant which were none in his favour and not at all the sort of things you'd expect him to say. Rumblebuffin, at such a height, of course heard none of this. But he did exclaim, 'Bless me! I've picked up the little girl instead! I beg your pardon, Missie, I thought _you _was the handkerchee!'

'No, no,' laughed Lucy. 'Here it is!' And she held it out for him again. But Giant Rumblebuffin looked sadly at the handkerchief, for it was not at all the correct size for a giant like him (although it was a lovely size for the young Daughter of Eve). Lucy realised this as he stared at it and said, 'I'm afraid it's not much use to you, Mr Rumblebuffin.'

But the giant was not at all fazed at this. 'Not at all, not at all,' the giant said, quite politely indeed. 'Never met a nicer handkerchee. So fine, so handy. So – I don't know who to describe it!' With that, he lowered Lucy rather gently to the ground. The little girl was smiling, rather as if she hadn't just been dangling a hundred feet off the ground, although she was flushed to show for it. Tumnus came rushing to her in all of a flutter and was about to just give her a huge hug when Lucy laughed out loud and said, 'Why, what a nice giant he is!' Then they were back to laughing and celebrating with the rest of the freed statues.

However, the celebration was soon to end, for Aslan has spoken:

'Our day's work is not yet over, and if the Witch is to be finally defeated before bedtime, we must find the battle at once. Now,' he began. 'Hose who can't keep up – that is, children, dwarfs, and small animals – must ride on the backs of those who can – that is, lions, centaurs, unicorns, horses, giants, and eagles.'

As everyone sorted themselves out, Tumnus found himself not where he wanted to be at all, because Lucy was far up in the front, poised on Aslan's back, while he was here, quite close to the rear of the throng. But he had little time to mourn, for the group lurched forward, and Tumnus found himself running into the last place he expected himself to be: battle.


	9. Part 1: Why Tumnus Was Fighting

Narnia:

When Children Cry

My first phanphic, so be merciful, I beg of you!

SUMMARY:

Part One: Basically, Tumnus' story of his friendship with Lucy.

Part Two: Their friendship after Lucy becomes Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia.

Part Three: Lucy and Tumnus reunite many years later, and how their friendship progresses into love.

Disclaimer: I don't own Lucy, Tumnus, or anything, really, in Part One. I get to own more stuff as the book progresses... but for now, I own nothing; I am simply a phanphiction hobo.

Chapter Nine

Why Tumnus Was Fighting

Tightly clutching Lucy's handkerchief, Tumnus raced ahead with the troop. It did not really have the great impact on his that it should've had; he was about to fight in a war. _He _in a war, not to mention the fact that he was at a complete loss for weapons or armour. The only thing in his mind was this:

_RUN!_

And run he did, though it was not of much use, because goats were not built to run on just their hind legs, and Humans can't very well run with their hands. Mostly, Tumnus was tripping and stumbling with differing running positions, barely catching himself when he fell. Blood pounded in his head at a throbbing rhythm, and his breathing was not for the better, there was an absolutely dreadful stitch in both his sides and chest, and his back ached from when he would try to bend over and run with the aid of Human fingers.

It all caught up to him eventually, for he lagged further and further behind the hastening crowd. This was too much for him, far too much. He gave up all strength and fell to the ground, gasping for air and panting. It was such a worry that he was not with the rest of them, that the herd of Talking Beasts and others had raced on ahead of him, that Tumnus was left behind with hardly any life left in him and without the ability to fight for the Narnia he showed loyalty to.

He lay there for quite longer than he'd imagined, for he soon heard a great galloping noise and was suddenly yanked up by the red muffler round his neck. It was not as chafing as it perhaps should have been, but he had no time to worry about that. For he soon found himself straddling a great white horse . . . No, not a horse!

'Oi!' yelled the centaur over his shoulder. 'What do ye think ye're doin, runnin with the crowd like ye're a 'orse or somethin of the like?' The centaur, whose name was Glonthelyn, had a voice thick with an Irish accent and trilled his R's most wonderfully (and in what would have been a comforting way, had it been under different circumstances).

'I - I –' Tumnus stuttered, but before he could finish, Glonthelyn interrupted quite angrily.

'Ye should've been ridin on someone else; a unicorn, p'raps, but not on yere own two feet, yu lit'le scroggin!'

'I –' Tumnus tried again, but was once again cut short.

'Ye're much too small to think ye can keep up with the big crowd, tha's fer sure, my lit'le friend!'

Tumnus did not very much like being called 'little', and began to answer quite indignantly to the Glonthelyn. 'I _beg your pardon!_'

'Oh, I'm not sayin ye're just a wee thumper like those two there –' Tumnus acknowledged the rabbit couple perched on the centaur's rump quite comfortably. 'But ye're certainly not big enough to try'n keep up wi'd the rest of us!'

'Yes, well I–' Tumnus began, but thought of something. ' "Keep up with the rest of you"? Why, for a centaur, you're a little too far behind to be calling yourself fast!'

'I'm not sayin I'm not a wee far back, but I'm bringin up the rear, young faun, bringin up the rear. Just on the lookout for weak lit'le fellas like you!'

Tumnus seemed about to protest, but he must've realised how foolish he had been, and therefore held his tongue (quite wisely indeed).

It was not long at all before the group ahead of them slowed considerably, and Glonthelyn announced in a grave voice, 'This is where I be lettin ye off, my lit'le friends.' Tumnus bit his lip and carefully slid off the centaur's back, followed by the two rabbits. He was about to go into full battle, about to fight with nothing but his two hoofs and skill. But this war . . . this was not any war. This was being fought for Narnia and for the rightful kings and queens to be ruling it –

Tumnus froze as the thought came to him; part of the reason this war was being fought was _for Lucy._

And it was in the name of the rightful queen Lucy that he would fight.

Tumnus stood boldly, lost in the sea of warriors come to the aid of King Peter's army. He could barely see over the mass of heads a great battle, with – Tumnus's heart sank – stone statues scattered all about the field.

But they were not without hope, for there, on the ledge of a great hill, stood the most glorious thing in all of Narnia:

Aslan.

The golden Lion rang out an unconquerable roar, and all fighting on the battlefield turned their heads and hope-filled eyes to their saviour.

In one fluid movement, all of the Beasts behind Aslan opened their mouths and let loose a cry that struck fear into the hearts of their enemies. And Tumnus felt quite certain that although they were greatly outnumbered and barren of hope, no one would lose this battle if they had Aslan's name crested on their lips and thundering in their hearts.


	10. Part 1: What Was Mended

Narnia:

When Children Cry

My first phanphic, so be merciful, I beg of you!

SUMMARY:

Part One: Basically, Tumnus' story of his friendship with Lucy.

Part Two: Their friendship after Lucy becomes Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia.

Part Three: Lucy and Tumnus reunite many years later, and how their friendship progresses into love.

Disclaimer: I don't own Lucy, Tumnus, or anything, really, in Part One. I get to own more stuff as the book progresses... but for now, I own nothing; I am simply a phanphiction hobo.

Sorry this chapter's so long; it has three parts to it, and each was too short to be a chapter in itself.

Chapter Ten

What Was Mended

A great shout arose from the army behind Aslan, and flowed down the giant hill to the battlefield. Tumnus, being just a young faun, felt so incredibly lost in this battle, but was determined to fight in this war.

As he reached the battlefield, not a single enemy attacked him. A good sign for certain, meaning that the Witch's army was lessening. However, that was no excuse for him to cease fighting before he began.

A goblin was holding a crude spear to the throat of a large badger who was in no condition to fight. Tumnus leapt forward, jumped onto the goblin's back and seized its spear all in one movement. He wrapped him arms round the creature's throat and kept his grip there tightly. But the goblin was much too strong for that and sank his razor- sharp teeth into Tumnus's arm. Tumnus howled in pain and was wrenched off the goblin's back, toppling to the ground. The goblin glared at him and tore another spear from a dead eagle's chest, grasping it menacingly before Tumnus's eyes. The faun glared at the spear and leapt up, knocking the goblin in the head with a heavy hoof. The goblin shrieked, poising its spear in position to strike, but Tumnus brought out his own. They circled each other in hatred, and began to spar with the broad wooden sticks the spearheads were bound to. This small fight kept on for quite some time, until the badger which Tumnus had saved crept under the goblin's feet. When the goblin stepped backward, it cried out as it fell to the ground. Tumnus grimaced at the goblin and drove his spear through its heart.

He turned around rapidly in time enough to duck a griffyn that swept low to the ground. The gryffin was of King Peter's army, but why then would it attempt an attack on Tumnus? The faun soon came to the realisation of why, and bent down to clutch hold of the sword that the gryffin had dropped in front of him. Tumnus watched him fly away into the sun, and sent out a silent thank-you to the valiant beast. The faun stared at the weapon in his hand and unsheathed it. Made of jewelled silver and mahogany, the sword was surely made from dwarfs and was the most beautiful and fatal thing that Tumnus had ever seen, and truly worthy to fight for Aslan. Then, with hilt in hand, Tumnus ran forward into the heart of the battlefield shouting out,

'FOR NARNIA!'

He raised the sword with his right hand and brought it down upon one of the Witch's minions.

If you had seen Tumnus on that battlefield with your very eyes, I feel certain that you would not recognise him. That once cowardly faun who yielded to the White Witch, who would not wander too far around his corner for fear of what lurked beyond . . . Yes, that very faun Tumnus had become a true Narnian warrior. There was no fear in this gallant fighter as he took on enemies twice his size, no fear as he was beaten down again and again by yet another beast. He would only once again arise from the blood-sodden ground, more vigorous than ever.

This, however, was soon discontinued. Tumnus was holding his bright sword to a rather stupid-looking troll, when the troll turned and ran away. Tumnus was about to chase after it when he looked about and saw that _all _of the Witch's army was retreating.

Tumnus gave out a triumphant laugh and wiped the beautiful sword on the grass below him. He lifted the sword with tip facing the sky and looked up to it. This sky he was looking upon, the earth beneath his hoofs, the breeze lilting over his perspiring face – it was all now a part of Narnia.

Narnia was free.

❦

'Mr Tumnus!'

Tumnus let out a small _oof! _as Lucy raced at him and threw her arms around his middle. In return, he bent down and pulled her in tightly.

'Oh, Mr Tumnus, I'd hoped you were all right!' said the little girl.

'I can say the same for you,' Tumnus assured her, releasing her from his arms.

'Why, Mr Tumnus, what's that?' asked Lucy, pointing to his arm. Tumnus covered it quickly. He needn't trouble such a young heart with his own battle wounds.

'Oh, just a scratch.'

'Mr Tumnus, you're bleeding; show it to me at once!' said Lucy, and Tumnus was so surprised at her fierceness that he lifted his hand from the injury. Lucy gasped. 'Oh, that looks simply awful,' she whispered, and brought something out of her pocket that Tumnus couldn't see. 'Bend down just a little bit; that's it. Now, just a drop of this and you'll be as right as rain.' Lucy touched a finger to Tumnus's lower lip.

Tumnus's head buzzed, and he wasn't sure if it was her touch or the strange concoction that she'd placed on his mouth. He bit his lip and felt an unusual (yet not unpleasant) taste seep onto his tongue that was incredibly sweet and delicious. What was even more stunning was the bleeding gash on his forearm was disappearing. He watched in amazement as the severed skin melted together, the swelling slowly decreased, and all other aches on his body altogether vanished.

'Lucy –' gasped Tumnus. 'What _was that?_'

'Oh!' said Lucy, glancing at a little blue bottle in her hands. 'It was – I mean, it _is_ – my present. From Father Christmas.'

Tumnus laughed out loud, not in a ridiculing way, but out of joy. 'Did Christmas really come while I was gone?'

'Yes. I saw him.'

Tumnus raised an eyebrow. 'Who? Father Christmas?'

'Yes, that's right.'

Tumnus grinned. 'Summer, Christmas, Aslan . . . What else happened while I was a statue?'

Lucy told him.

❦

'. . . And you really saw him come back to life?'

Lucy smiled. 'Well, I didn't really _see _him, but one moment he was lying on the Stone Table, and then Susan and I were just ever so tired and very sad of course, so we left to go back to camp. Then there was this rumbling noise, like the earth itself was being shaken. And Susan and I turned around, and Aslan wasn't there anymore. It's not like he was dead and then was alive again, it's just that he _wasn't there_, and the Stone Table was broken in half like a great crack in the ice. Su and I didn't know what to make of it, but then . . . we turned around again, and he was _there! _I could see him, and he was alive.'

From the little girl's vaguely outlined storytelling, Tumnus could picture what happened. 'And then?'

'He was just so . . . happy. More than happy. And then he was so happy that he gave out a giant roar.'

Tumnus grinned again. 'How loud?'

'Well, I couldn't really tell, he told us to cover our ears!' said Lucy, and Tumnus laughed. Lucy continued. 'And then we got on his back and flew over to the Witch's castle. Oh, that was _amazing._ Of course, you know where the story goes on from there.'

Tumnus's grin abruptly vanished. 'Yes, I do. But how –' The faun was interrupted as a boy wandered over to the two friends' conversation.

'Lu, I'm sorry to interrupt, but Susan – oh.' The boy's eyes turned to Tumnus.

'Edmund,' Lucy began, seeing that his gaze lingered on Tumnus and that neither of them were saying anything. 'This is Mr Tumnus the faun. Mr Tumnus, this is –'

'We've met,' said Tumnus stiffly.

'Oh, have you?' said Lucy happily, but silenced at the sight of Mr Tumnus glaring daggers at her brother.

'Ah . . .' Edmund mumbled. 'Look, I'm . . . I'm sorry, and –'

Tumnus was about to say something very rude indeed, but remembered Lucy's presence and held his tongue.

_Lucy._

In truth, Tumnus intended to never forgive that traitor. Never forgive Edmund, this bully, this barbarian, who had betrayed him, who had betrayed _Lucy._

Yet Tumnus, too, had betrayed Lucy at one point.

And Lucy had forgiven him.

Even though he presently didn't believe he deserved her forgiveness, she'd forgiven him. Now it was up to him – one deceived in the stead of a deceiver – to forgive Edmund. For Lucy's sake.

Tumnus cleared his throat. 'It's all right.'

Edmund's worried brow softened. 'Really?'

'Yes. All forgiven.'

'I really do apologise, I didn't –'

'It's all right, Edmund. The past is forgotten.' Tumnus thought for something more stable to say. 'Let's be friends, shall we?'

Genuine smiles flourished on both their faces. 'Yes,' said Edmund. Then: 'Thank you.' He needn't say anything more. The two had reached a silent understanding of peace.

After Edmund had departed, Lucy turned to Tumnus. 'What was that all about?'

Tumnus smiled yet again. Today was a day for mending things. 'That's a story for another day, Lucy.'


	11. Part 1: What Happened When Lucy Cried

Narnia:

When Children Cry

My first phanphic, so be merciful, I beg of you!

SUMMARY:

Part One: Basically, Tumnus' story of his friendship with Lucy.

Part Two: Their friendship after Lucy becomes Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia.

Part Three: Lucy and Tumnus reunite many years later, and how their friendship progresses into love.

(Part One does, by the way, end with this very chapter.)

Disclaimer (and author's note): I don't think I truly own _anything _in this chapter. I own not Tumnus nor Lucy, nor even my own plot-line. I gain the latter in parts two and three, to be coming quite shortly. I would say that I am merely a **ph**an**ph**iction hobo, but there seemed to be somewhat of a disagreement on that. I most deeply apologise to those of you who have commented on that, but I got too drawn up in the fanfiction lingo and was so profoundly in the habit of spelling things with 'ph' (I was indeed a _Phantom_ author, but that piece of work was erased long ago) that I'd only continued the habit. Thank you most kindly to those who were so avidly aware to that mistake. I'll attempt to correct my erring in previous chapters, but for the moment I'm far too laggard to fix them immediately.

Also: To anyone who's noticed my strangely formal style of writing, I'm not just putting it on. I do write like this, and I am sorry if it bothers you.

And now, on with the tale!

Chapter Eleven

What Happened When Lucy Cried

Tumnus selected a book from the shelf and pulled it out, blowing dust off the cover. The guest room in Cair Paravel where he was currently residing was directly next to the library (Lucy had made sure of that), so he would meander over in the mornings to read the day to nightfall. But not to-night. No, certainly not to-night. Lucy's coronation was that very evening, and he had to be sure to attend.

The book he'd selected was of Narnian history. Tumnus smiled as he opened the solemn leather cover and inhaled the sweet scent of words on a page. Each phrase was absorbed into his mind as he sank in a soft chair, seemingly unaware of his action. With avid hunger, he took in the literature spread out before him of how Narnia was created: Aslan the great Lion had opened his mouth and conjured that beautiful land with a song. However, the book also mentioned the not-so-fascinating theory that this was all rubbish, and that there was no Aslan.

'Fools,' whispered Tumnus, smiling to himself. 'Of course there's an Aslan.'

'– And I appreciate your loyalty, Tumnus,' said Aslan, padding into the library and making Tumnus jump in his chair. 'But one should not judge others by their ignorance. It is all they've been taught; thus, they are not at fault for this distrust.'

'Aslan, sir,' breathed Tumnus, but the Lion was not deterred from speech.

'It is only when they know Me and do not believe that they find themselves at fault.'

'Please sir,' Tumnus interrupted. 'There haven't been many – er – opportunities for anyone to really know you.'

'Young faun,' Aslan said, with what have been a sigh. 'It is not I who needs to be present for them to meet me. They must be present to themselves,' Aslan turned his penetrating gaze to Tumnus and seemed to look right into his soul 'and they shall find Me there.'

It was so very frightening for Tumnus to hold intense eye contact with the Lion that it took all of his breath to say, 'Aslan, I don't understand.'

'You will, Tumnus.' On that note, Aslan turned and silently strode toward the door. But before he left, Aslan turned around to stare at Tumnus with a softer gaze than the previous. 'The Daughter of Eve is to be crowned to-night, young faun.'

It seemed to Tumnus that there was nothing to say. Aslan undoubtedly would know by the expression on the faun's face that he'd been worrying about that for quite some time. How was he to act, now that Lucy was to be Queen? Was he to be properly respectful, and would it be proper for them to be on such casual terms with one another?

'Know, Tumnus, that, being Queen, she'll be ruler of more people than she could ever want. But she'll be in more need of a truly loyal friend than of another loyal subject.' Without another word, Aslan exited the room, leaving Tumnus with a boxful of questions.

❦

Preparing for the coronation proved to be more trouble than it seemed. Not one of the men's court garments were tailored for fauns, and to wear clothes made for men or dwarfs looked simply ridiculous on him. Mrs Beaver, who had also taken up temporary residence at Cair Paravel as Royal Seamstress had exclaimed, 'But haven't you something presentable to wear at your own home?'

Tumnus had recently visited his den before coming to abidance at the Castle on the Eastern Sea, and was aghast to the total destruction of his home. All of the interior and exterior had been left in utter ruins, so he knew that there surely was not a shred of apparel remaining. It seemed that the only thing he had to don himself with was his familiar red muffler. This, of course, was thoroughly washed by Mrs Beaver to the point of near flawlessness. And as he tossed the crimson scarf round his neck, he hoped that maybe – just maybe – that Lucy would prefer it that way; that he would be just the same and remain unchanged by her royalty.

The coronation itself was considerably less formal than Tumnus had dreaded (it undoubtedly had something to do with the fact that a great deal of the guests were Talking Beasts, and thus unclothed). It was only when the Kings and Queens of Narnia emerged from behind the great dais in the throne room that Tumnus felt as though he should have worn something a bit more appropriate.

For there was Lucy, standing like a true queen in her royal gown. She was absolutely the most beautiful thing Tumnus had ever seen, but we would never understand it. No, not the modern race on Man. For everything about that day was beautiful and old.

That coronation was possibly the farthest thing from what we would expect today. If someone were to be crowned now, there would be such an ever long service filled to the brim with long prayers and chants and hymns. Never in Narnia. They knew then, that being crowned was a joyous occasion, not to be polluted with solemnity. It was quite simplified and short; each of the young humans took individually their vows and stood by their great thrones. Then they all turned in unison to face the east, (which was also facing the audience) and the room rang out in joyous voices, 'Long Live King Peter! Long Live Queen Susan! Long Live King Edmund! Long Live Queen Lucy!' and as Tumnus looked on the sweet face of Queen Lucy (who'd just been presented with a lovely silver circlet-crown) he could not hold back the most beautiful feel of pride at the sight. The young faun smiled, insensible to the jubilant tears trickling down his face. And there came Aslan in all his splendour to rumble in wise words:

'One a king or queen in Narnia, always a king or queen in Narnia. Bear it well, Sons of Adam! Bear it well, Daughters of Eve!' If you were standing in the Throne Room at that very moment, you could taste the almost tangible awe in utter silence growing throughout the chamber.

The following celebration was not more than an absolutely delicious supper and ball. Tumnus sat beside the shopkeeper, Ankney (you may read more about him in a previous chapter) and was so delighted that the dwarf's formerly icy demeanor had melted with spring that he hardly noticed Lucy slip out the side door. But there was she, in the very corner of his vision – and there was he, excusing himself from his conversation with Ankney to follow her.

Lucy was perched on the carved railing of a balcony and staring out at something or other. Tumnus, about to ask her why she wasn't at the ball, stopped as he saw a golden figure padding along the beach below. It was, of course, the Lion Aslan, and he was treading onward to the westward sunset. Tumnus cautiously stepped forth to lean on the balcony beside her. The two silently watched his footprints in the wet sand until they, like the form they represented, vanished into the distance. Lucy turned around to face Tumnus. '_Why_ did he have to leave?' Her friend answered not, but knelt down to her eye level and took her hand.

'Don't worry.' Tumnus gave Lucy's tiny hand a reassuring squeeze. 'He'll come back. Someday.'

Lucy's lower lip quivered and soon erupted into a face like crumpled satin. She buried her face in the faun's shoulder, sobbing in completely childlike sadness

This was the first time Tumnus had ever seen Lucy cry.

Totally unaware of his actions, he stroked the little girl's hair, repeatedly whispering 'Ssh. It'll be all right.' In the hidden world within him, however, it was all confusion: Lucy. Crying. You remember that Tumnus could never ever live through such a sadness when just _any _child wept; yet this child, his (dare he think it?) dearest friend, had for the _first time _cried in the presence of Tumnus.

Tumnus was petrified. It was he who first shed tears to Lucy, but she was now repeating the action. What right did sadness have to dwell in Lucy's heart? Why should she, an innocent child, be inflicted with the burden of tears? Yet in his necessity to comfort the girl, he could not help but have a deep sense of entrancement of her. There was something peculiar in her tears that was not uncanny, but enchanting. She was not a simple child. Nor was it that she was a queen. Something about Lucy was different: special, even. Lucy had been with him in his hour of need, the one time he'd cried before a child, when he was drowning in guilt.

And now he, Tumnus, was to return the favour and comfort her in his stead.

'There now,' said Tumnus, conjuring the handkerchief from his pocket. 'Don't be sad, Lucy.'

The little girl looked directly into his eyes, and Tumnus felt a surge run through him. 'He will come back,' said Lucy, although it was really a question as opposed to a statement. Tumnus answered with the only right response to such a thing:

'He'll do what he sees to be right. After all,' said Tumnus, a smile forming on his face. 'it's not as though he were a _tame _lion.'

❦ END OF PART ONE ❦


	12. Part 2: Tumnus's New Home

Part Two of

The Narnia Trilogy:

When Children Cry

My first fanfic, so be merciful, I beg of you!

SUMMARY:

Part One: Basically, Tumnus' story of his friendship with Lucy.

Part Two: Their friendship after Lucy becomes Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia.

Part Three: Lucy and Tumnus reunite many years later, and how their friendship progresses into love.

And then we'll have a little Epilogue.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lucy or Tumnus or Narnia. In Book Two, I do, however, own my own character (sort of) who is the Dryad Chrystmay (fashioned after a friend, IridescentEpiphany), and I'm even in control of my own _plot-line!_

Chapter Twelve:

Tumnus's New Home

'Oh, please stay at Cair Paravel Mr Tumnus!' begged Lucy in such a way that made Tumnus want to laugh out loud (but didn't, because that would be unkind to his friend). 'Oh, do, do, do!'

Tumnus smiled at the Daughter of Eve. 'I would, Lucy dear, but it's much too big for the likes of me. I think I'd be more comfortable in my own little house.'

'Mr Tumnus, you aren't going back to your old home, are you?'

The smile on the faun's face abruptly vanished. 'No, Lucy. I am not.' His house was rather beyond repair, being so greatly destroyed by the Witch's wolves.

'Oh, good,' said Lucy. 'It was far too far away from Cair Paravel. Visiting would be a pretty kettle of fish.'

Tumnus smiled. The little girl wouldn't understand, and he did not wish to reproach her for it. He'd grown up in that little hovel, he'd Indeed she had a point. Visiting would be such a hindrance to their friendship if he'd lived so far away.

'But Lucy, I've found a lovely den that is not such a long way from here,' said Tumnus.

'Oh! Is that why you're leaving today?'

'Yes it is.'

Lucy smiled with relief. 'I'd thought you were going away. That is, very far away for a very long time.'

Tumnus grinned. 'Now why would I go do such a thing when I have friends like you right in Narnia?'

'You tell me why.'

'I wouldn't, that's why.'

'Good!' And the small queen flung herself at Tumnus and wrapped her arms around his neck. Tumnus laughed out loud and spun her around. They spun for a lovely long time, laughing and smiling. When Tumnus set her down, she smiled a little dizzily.

'Now then!' said the faun. 'I'm sorry Lucy, but I really must go. I have a den to attend to, and I'd like it to be all right before nightfall.'

'Oh, do let's!' cried Lucy joyously. 'Might I come with you?'

Tumnus held the little girl's hand. 'I can't very well say "no" to a Queen of Narnia.'

The little girl frowned. 'I'm just Lucy, Mr Tumnus,' corrected she, sounding a little hurt.

'You'll never be "just" anything,' said Tumnus wisely. 'You'll always be someone out of the ordinary; that's the true Narnian in you. But you'll still be Lucy to me.'

Lucy grinned ear to ear. 'Dash the formalities!' she shouted.

'Dash the formalities indeed!' Tumnus said with a decided nod.

❦

'May I?' asked Lucy, a hopeful expression on her face.

Tumnus laughed. 'You needn't, but you're welcome to.'

Lucy smiled and stretched her arm up to give three hard taps on the brass doorknocker. 'I should like to do that every time I come by!' she exclaimed. 'It is such fun, don't you think so, Mr Tumnus?'

Tumnus nodded agreeably and opened the door. 'But sadly, Lucy, I'll never need to knock on my own front door.'

There was an impish gleam Lucy's eye. 'That's the beauty of it! Because you live here, you can knock on it all day if you like.'

Once again Tumnus laughed out loud and stepped into the foyer. 'It's a bit smaller than my old den. Come in, come in.'

Lucy carefully set a foot on the doorframe, then came in. 'Oh, it's absolutely lovely!' proclaimed the girl at the very sight. It was indeed quite lovely, and very cosy as well. What with the walls being brown and the carpet dyed a deep green colour, it almost seemed as though one was walking through an indoor forest.

With childlike excitement, Tumnus lead her through the tiny den. 'See, this will be the kitchen: I'll have the cupboards over here – yes, on this wall – and the table over there, with the chairs . . . And the parlour, right through here. Yes, and right by the hearth I'll have the chairs, then another table over there, and candelabra on these walls . . . Then the bedroom is there, and I'll have the teapots there –'

'Mr Tumnus,' Lucy interrupted. 'Where will you put your books?'

Tumnus stiffened, and it took a bit of a silence before he answered. 'My books . . . they're gone, Lucy. The wolves tore up nearly everything.'

A deeply apologetic look seeped across Lucy's face. 'I'm so sorry, Mr Tumnus. I didn't know.'

Tumnus didn't seem to hear. 'What they _didn't_ rip to pieces is in the parlour. Just a few rugs, a chair or two, and my tea-set. I might have a painting or so, but it's all gone.'

This hollow bitterness was more than Lucy could bear, and she attempted to change the subject. 'What will you do with that room, there?'

Tumnus came to attention on the immediate. 'Where?'

'Just there, through the white door.'

'Lucy, don't be stupid, there isn't a white door anywhere in the –' Tumnus put his hand to cover his mouth. He blinked guiltily. 'Lucy, I'm sorry. Lucy!'

For Lucy was staring at the floor, with tears in her eyes. 'I'm _not_ stupid,' she said quietly. 'I'm _not_, Mr Tumnus.'

'Oh, Lucy, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it.'

'Then why did you say it?' Her voice had cracked, and Tumnus knew that she was weeping steadily. He'd nearly forgotten of the sensitivity of children.

Tumnus knelt in front of her and took her hands. 'I'm sorry, Lucy. I was angry. But I wasn't angry at you, and I shouldn't have said that.' Still, the girl wouldn't look at him. 'Lucy, please don't cry. Oh, Lucy.' Tumnus hugged the girl close to him, and she didn't struggle against it as she sobbed into his shoulder. From his pocket, Tumnus pulled out the neatly folded handkerchief that Lucy had given him months back. Dabbing Lucy's eyes, he whispered, 'It's a good thing that I carry this with me. We two just seem to be blubbing all over Narnia, don't we?' That allowed a shaking giggle to escape Lucy.

'Yes, we do,' she agreed.

'I'm sorry I called you stupid.'

'That's all right, then. It's just that everyone called me stupid when . . .' Lucy bit her lip. 'When they didn't believe me. When they didn't believe me about Narnia.'

'Oh,' said Tumnus quietly, and then he understood why she'd reacted so dramatically to his insult. In order to make her cheer up, he asked softly, 'Now, where's that white door that you were telling me about?'

Lucy pointed at it, and Tumnus leapt up in surprise. 'By the Lion, it _is_ a white door! Goodness me, why I hadn't noticed it before now! You were right, Lucy.' The Queen smiled. 'But I could've sworn it wasn't there before,' Tumnus continued.

'Let's have a look,' said Lucy, and stepped forth with her hand on the door-knob before Tumnus could stop her.

'By Jove!' cried out Lucy, choosing one of Peter's favourite exclamations.

'What is it?' Tumnus asked anxiously, but stepped into the door before she could answer. His mouth dropped open as he gazed about at his surroundings.

Timidly, Lucy said, 'You were right, too, Mr Tumnus. I don't think this was here before.'

There wasn't a shred of doubt in his mind that Lucy was again correct. For as he looked right and left, he was filled with this great sense of impossibility. This was . . . This was a _library._ Shelves lined the circular room, filled to the brim with both new and familiar titles. Light streamed in from curtained windows around the chamber, and there were three chairs and a fireplace at one end of the room. An altogether beautiful and intricately woven rug (that he presently took no notice of) was beneath his hoofs.

'How –' began the stunned faun, but Lucy rushed at him with a slip of paper she'd found on one of the chairs. In loopy calligraphy and violet ink, it read:

_Better late than never!_

_Father Christmas_

Lucy and Tumnus shared the day drinking tea in the library, each of them paying no notice to the sinking sun beyond the windowpanes. It was when Tumnus looked up from his book (long after night had fallen) that he smiled at the girl in the chair opposite from him. She didn't see it, though, because her head had drooped onto her shoulder in blissful sleep.

Taking care not to wake her, Tumnus lifted Lucy into his arms. She was incredibly light, which was lucky, as it was a good five minutes' walk to Cair Paravel. When he'd arrived, the High King Peter and his other sister came rushing into the Great Hall and Susan cried, 'Oh, the poor dear!' before Tumnus could shush her. With special caution, Tumnus handed the sleeping Lucy into her brother's arms.

'Thank you Tumnus,' whispered Peter. 'for bringing her home.'

'My pleasure,' smiled the faun, and kissed Lucy softly on the forehead before departing.


	13. Part 2: What Fun they Had!

Narnia:

When Children Cry

My first fanfic, so be merciful, I beg of you!

SUMMARY:

Part One: Basically, Tumnus' story of his friendship with Lucy.

Part Two: Their friendship after Lucy becomes Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia.

Part Three: Lucy and Tumnus reunite many years later, and how their friendship progresses into love.

And then we'll have a little Epilogue.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lucy or Tumnus or Narnia. In Book Two, I do, however, own my own character (sort of) who is the Dryad Chrystmay (fashioned after a friend, IridescentEpiphany), and I'm even in control of my own _plot-line!_

Chapter Thirteen

What Fun They Had!

It is true, dear reader, that Puddleglum does not enter this story. That is quite deeply taken to dismay for me. However, I might remark that on this particular day in the Golden Age of Narnia, Puddleglum would have been in a ridiculous delight. For it was just the sort of miserable day that one such as a Marsh-wiggle would expect.

The previous afternoon, the faun Tumnus had promised Queen Lucy that he would pay a visit to her the next morning at Cair Paravel. Fauns tend to be creatures who keep their word, so you can rather easily understand the sort of groan that escaped Tumnus when he awoke that very day and looked outside. This is what he saw:

Misery.

There is just no other way to put it in a single word. Rain splattered each window so that he could hardly look beyond the glass. When he managed to squint past the squall of water, there was not much worth looking at anyway. The ground was no more green and grassy, but smothered in watery clods of mud. Tumnus shivered as he glanced at the trees. Many of them were leaning due south in the heavy wind, and the remaining leaves on them fluttered with the business of cooks before a feast.

But he'd made a promise to Lucy, and he had full intentions of keeping it. Thus he left the warmth and comfort of his den with umbrella at the ready, and his muffler tighter around his neck than it was on the regular. Certainly he missed his own hearth fire and cushioned chair that he'd left behind, but not nearly enough to change his mind.

It took a rather longer time for Tumnus to reach Cair Paravel, due to his umbrella repetitively turning inside-out and the thick mud at his hoofs. Lucy saw the faun in his struggle at her bedroom window and immediately raced down the stone steps to the Great Hall in all of a flutter. She'd meant to rush out the front gates to meet him, but by the time she was opening the front doors, Tumnus was already there.

'Oh, Mr Tumnus!' cried Lucy, and led him indoors. His teeth were chattering in an uncanny manner and he was cold to the touch. 'Why, you're soaked to the bone, Mr Tumnus!' she exclaimed, and then, 'Come, now. You're shivering. We'll get you warmed up.'

That she did, to be sure. With the aid of Lucy and King Peter, Tumnus was led into the nearest sitting-room with a roaring fire and set directly in front of it. Beside him was, of course, Lucy.

They spent a few minutes in silence, staring only at the billowing flames. Tumnus was warming himself up quite nicely, and Peter had draped a thick quilt over him before leaving the two alone.

'Mr Tumnus,' said Lucy quietly. 'You didn't have to come today.'

Tumnus was shocked, and could say only: 'But– Lucy, I _promised_.'

'Mr Tumnus,' began Lucy in a very firm and rational voice. 'you should not have gone out today. It was. . . It was very cold, for one thing, and very wet.'

'Yes,' said Tumnus, smiling a little. 'I know.'

'But you came anyway,' Lucy said, slightly confused.

'Yes. I did.'

'Why?'

Tumnus wrung his muffler over the hot hearth-stones. 'Because I promised.'

Lucy moaned in a fretful sort of voice. 'Mr Tumnus, you could have been stuck out there. And you'll probably be ill with a head cold.'

'Perhaps, Lucy. Perhaps I shall.'

'And you risked that to keep a trivial promise!'

'A promise to a friend is never so trivial,' Tumnus said wisely, and when he did this, he stared at Lucy in such a way to confirm this.

Lucy laughed out loud in delight. 'Oh, Mr Tumnus! you are so completely unlike anyone else, it's marvellous!' And she gave her friend an almightily massive hug.

In a considerably more cheerful mood, they spent the whole afternoon like this. Lucy told him of her daily lessons (which rather bored her) that mainly consisted of queenly protocol. But she did very much enjoy her archery lessons. Tumnus smiled as she recalled the boorish subjects she was required to learn: ballroom dancing, dining manners, subject protocol, Narnian laws – then again, there were the not-so-boorish subjects that she rather enjoyed. The instructor of what Lucy called the 'sensible subjects' (these were such things as you can relate to in your very own schooling) was a valiant red fox named Baviar, whom Lucy liked very much. He, of course, had no hands, so he was aided in writing classes with Lucy's archery teacher. This archery teacher was none other than the centaur Glonthelyn, the very centaur that Tumnus had ridden into battle.

It was not long before Tumnus was thoroughly dried of all rain (and very warm besides). It was when the earliest shades of twilight were streaking the sky that Lucy suggested that they stroll by the kitchens for some tea. Tumnus agreed on the spot, for he was very much in the mood for tea.

Perhaps it was because he had tea every afternoon, or perhaps it was a spontaneous theory, but an unpleasant thought flitted across his mind as they were walking down a corridor into the great hall. The thought was that Tumnus was entirely too predictable. He did not much like this thought, conjured from seemingly thin air. When he took a glance at Lucy, he could tell in everything about her that she would grow up to be someone who liked having adventures. Yes, that was for certain. Lucy would one day be a beautiful Queen who paid less attention to courtly affairs, and would be far more interested in riding into battles with a sword poised in her armoured hand. She'd care little for politics and more for people.

Tumnus frowned. He was unlike Lucy. He cared more for the simple life of quiet afternoons. In a day, he wouldn't do much more than reading, writing, and sipping tea. Ah, but that was in the old days of the Long Winter. Now that it was summer, he wanted to regain his previous life of laughing and dancing in the forests with the Dryads.

With this thought in his mind, he decided on the spur of the moment to do something totally unexpected.

'Lucy,' he said as the two emerged from the corridor and into the Great Hall. 'look outside. It's not windy anymore.'

'No, I suppose not!' said Lucy in surprise, glancing out the window. 'Though it _is_ still as rainy.'

Tumnus stopped in the middle of the room. 'What is it, Mr Tumnus?' asked Lucy, curiously. 'Are you all right?'

Tumnus looked at Lucy for the briefest of moments, then suddenly went running out the front doors.

'Mr Tumnus!' yelled Lucy, shocked. Then, with hardly a thought in her mind, she went racing after him. And there he was, on the edge of the forest surrounding Cair Paravel. Lucy raced to him. 'Mr Tumnus, what _are _you doing!'

'Dancing!' replied Tumnus, and he was, indeed, dancing. It was an absolutely magnificent and lively dance of the fauns, and it sent him into a ridiculously wonderful happiness. He pounded the muddy earth beneath his hoofs in a wild rhythm and twisted his arms and spine in complex patterns again and again.

Lucy could only gape at the absurdity. 'But – Mr Tumnus, you're getting wet!'

Tumnus laughed. 'I know! Isn't it wonderful?'

'But. . .'

'Oh, Lucy, don't fret! That's no fun at all!' cried Tumnus in a joyous voice, and grasped Lucy's hands. 'It's not every day we get as fine a rain as this, enjoy it while you can!'

'But. . .'

'Dance, Lucy!' shouted Tumnus, and Lucy was so fascinated by his sudden merriment that she grinned and joined Tumnus.

They danced like this for a terrific while, laughing and singing in the gradually fading sunlight until the sky became totally dark. Yet still the rain fell as intensely as ever. Tumnus and Lucy slowly ceased their wild movement. Lucy glanced around about her.

'I can't see a thing,' she said to Tumnus.

'Neither can I!'

'You seem to be happy about it.'

Tumnus thrust back his head and laughed at the starry sky. 'Lucy, absolutely nothing can dampen my spirits today!' He considered what he'd said. 'Though I do seem to be quite dampened besides.'

A tiny giggle escaped Lucy. 'But how are we to find our way back to Cair?'

'Ah.' Tumnus grew a serious tone in his voice. 'Well –' Tumnus paused to think. 'I don't know, really!' And he laughed again. 'But I suppose we'll–'

'Look!' interrupted Lucy in a whisper. 'What's that?'

'What's what?'

'That! I'm pointing to it!'

Chuckling, Tumnus whispered, 'I can't see you pointing. It's dark, remember?'

'Oh! Right.' Lucy giggled nervously. Tumnus felt something bump into his horns as Lucy put her hands on his head, the turned his head to the left. '_That!_' she whispered. Tumnus squinted at it. It was a very small pinprick of light from far away, but –

Ah! there was another one, just beside it!

And another one, that way!

Tumnus stared at them in amazement as more and more of the little lights gathered together flitted about through the air around and above him. 'Lucy – They're fairies.'

Together, he and Lucy watched the fairies gather closer and closer to them. Lucy gasped, 'Oh!' when on of them landed on her finger. 'I think . . .' Lucy began, her voice steady. 'I think they want us to follow them.' Tumnus found that he could not disagree.

The fairies provided enough light for the both of them to see the way back to Cair Paravel and up the stone steps leading to it. They arrived in the Great Hall, shivering and drenched in rain, to Edmund's voice shouting, 'Lucy! Where have you been?' Soon enough, the other King and Queen had joined him. 'Where have you been?' they asked. 'We've been looking everywhere for you two! My goodness, you're soaked! Tumnus, haven't you had enough rain for today!'

Lucy and Tumnus were surrounded by the other royals of Cair Paravel and led up the stairs to the parlour by Lucy's bedchambers. Once again, they sat before the fire and shared stories, though they were both exceptionally more cheerful than before. Edmund stayed with them, shaking his head and muttering to himself.

'It's far too late for you to go home _now_, Tumnus,' remarked the King. 'You'll have to stay here for the night.'

When Tumnus had been dried and warmed for the second time that day, he was welcomed into a guest bedroom. It was, of course, the one he'd had in the days preceding and following the coronation.

The next morning, both Lucy and Tumnus had terrible head colds, Tumnus more so. But that did not hinder them, for they sat together on the perfectly enormous couch in Lucy's bedroom with steaming mugs of herbal tea. They'd had such a lovely time yesterday in the rain, and Lucy declared that she never wanted to forget it. Tumnus (who was rather a bit of an author) suggested that they write it all down, and they did. But once that was finished, it was not enough. So they spent the entire day planning to write an epic novel about their adventures; those they'd had, and those that had yet to come.

'Mr Tumnus,' said Lucy, 'I don't think I've ever had such fun in my life!' So she knew from then on that she would always love the rain.

And from that day forth, I can say truthfully that she always did.


	14. Part 2: What Happened with the Dryad

**Part Two of**

**The Narnia Trilogy:**

**When Children Cry**

**My first fanfic, so be merciful, I beg of you!**

**SUMMARY:**

**Part One: Basically, Tumnus' story of his friendship with Lucy.**

**Part Two: Their friendship after Lucy becomes Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia.**

**Part Three: Lucy and Tumnus reunite many years later, and how their friendship progresses into love.**

**And then we'll have a little Epilogue.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lucy or Tumnus or Narnia. In Part Two, however, I'm in control of my own _plot-line!_**

**This chapter is a present for IridescentEpiphany, who I've fashioned Chrystmay after. Happy 13 and three-eighths birthday!**

**I've realised now that no one really give a pair of dingo's kidneys about the whole LucyTumnus friendship, so I'm getting Part II over as quickly as I can, so all of you lovesick Tumnus fans can finally get to all the lovey-dovey parts (as if this fanfic isn't filled with enough fluff already...) It isn't going to extremely romantic anyway, I'm sorry to tell you. **

**Also, I apologise, my readers, I hope you are patient. This is the longest chapter yet:**

Chapter Fourteen

What Happened with the Dryad

Rain continued to create wet star-bursts on the window for the fortnight following, although Tumnus and Lucy had long since been rid of their illness. This was not to their loss, however; Tumnus remained at Cair Paravel for days, and the two spent these days in the warm, dry rooms of the castle. It was not short of perfect, for they laughed and wrote and retold a hoard of anecdotes, being not for the worse.

Yet the weather did end at a point, and Tumnus came to realise that life was not all merry days in the Narnian castle. Once again he would have to return to his familiar den and although it was not quite home, it was as home-like as many more things that he'd experienced lately. Fauns were meant for simple lives, and he'd soon have to return to his.

It was by luck that the sun shone on the day he chose to leave Cair Paravel, for he was not greatly looking forward to the trek home in mud and rain. Nay, he emerged with the sun from behind the clouds. And as he tread on the stone steps of the castle, he turned around to Lucy.

'You know,' he began. 'it is a lovely day.'

'Yes, I know,' said Lucy, smiling. 'Absolutely perfect, isn't it? The sun is back out, the earth is still damp and smelling sweet –'

'I wonder,' Tumnus cut in, 'if you should like to meet a friend of mine.'

'Oh, could I?' cried Lucy in excitement, and raced down the steps to him. 'Yes, please! I would so love to!'

Chuckling mildly, Tumnus said, 'Perhaps it would be best if you asked the High King first. You recall what's happened the last few times you've decided to go gallivanting on your own adventures.'

'But they're not my own adventures; I've always got you there with me!' Lucy grinned. 'And it is so much better that way.'

'All the same...' Tumnus gave the child a gentle shove back to the doors, where King Peter was standing at the foyer, leaning against the frame.

'Peter, please?' asked Lucy, and though she had her back to Tumnus, the faun could almost see the hope in her eyes.

The king laughed. 'Of course. Mr Tumnus,' he said, now turning his attention to the faun, 'if you could please have her back before dark, that would be most convenient.'

Tumnus bowed so deeply that he felt sure he could touch the stone ground if he liked. 'Yes, Your Majesty.'

'Tumnus, stop, please,' laughed Peter. 'You know we're only just the Pevensie children to you.'

Tumnus allowed a small smile to curl upwards on his lips. 'That I do, Majesty, but I think it's best if I follow protocol.'

'Mr Tumnus!' said Lucy, nudging him. 'Might I remind you of something?'

'And whatever may that be?'

A great, toothy grin spread over her face like butter on bread. '_Dash_ the formalities!' she giggled. Tumnus, too, laughed out loud.

'Dash the formalities indeed!' And hand in hand, Tumnus lead his friend into the forest.

'Mr Tumnus?' asked Lucy, once they were well into the thick wood. 'Who are we visiting?'

'Oh– and old friend,' said Tumnus. 'We played together as children, and we went to the nightly dances together.'

'Who is he?' asked Lucy.

'_She_, Lucy. Her name's Chrystmay.'

'Oh!' said Lucy, a little embarrassed. 'Then is she . . . Is she a faun, like you?'

'No, Lucy.' Tumnus shook his head. 'She's a dryad. Ah, here she is!' Tumnus stopped, smiling, facing a tall dogwood tree.

Lucy looked at him, looked at the dogwood, then looked at him again and said, 'Mr Tumnus. It's a tree.'

'No, look!' he whispered, bending down to her and pointing. Lucy could hardly suppress a gasp as she saw the figure climbing down the branches like fluid. She was beautiful, with dark hair and palest skin. She somewhat resembled the tree she lived in, being in a gown sewn of leaves and four-petaled white blossoms. Her fingers and toes seemed to be especially tree-like; they were long and spindly, like twigs and roots growing from her body.

'Why, it can't be...' said the dryad in merry astonishment. 'Tumnus, is that you?'

'Chrystmay!' Tumnus loudly said in joy. 'It's so good to see you again!'

'I can say the same,' laughed she, and tucked a strand of long, dark hair behind her pointed ear. Lucy noticed small purple flecks smothering her hair– violets! 'It's good to see you, old friend,' said Chrystmay, eyes sparkling the colour of green earth. 'And – oh, who is this?' The tall dryad bent down to Lucy. 'Hello, little friend!'

'Chrystmay,' began Tumnus, 'might I introduce Queen Lucy of Cair Paravel, ruler of the –'

'Oh, Mr Tumnus,' sighed Lucy. 'I've _told_ you, just –' But it was far too late to begin to tell him off, for the dryad Chrystmay had already swept a fine curtsy and was gasping, 'Your Majesty! I meant no offense...' and I do believe she would have kept going like this in such a state if Lucy had not grabbed her by the shoulders and said firmly (and, Tumnus was surprised to see, in a very grown-up way indeed), 'Please, Miss Chrystmay, I'm only Lucy. I've come as a friend, with a friend, and I'd very much like it if you didn't curtsy at every word.' Chrystmay, of course, was honoured to be treated in such a way by royalty, but she didn't show it. On the contrary, she stood abruptly and spoke as if the previous conversation had not taken place.

'Hello, Lucy dear,' she said, smiling. 'I have a feeling we're going to be most excellent friends.'

And that was that.

In moments, Tumnus and Chrystmay were talking like the old friends they were. Lucy was feeling quite lonely indeed until she realised Chrystmay's apparent liking to her. It was rather nice, although she suspected that the dryad wished to make a pet of her.

'Lucy, darling,' said Chrystmay, after they'd all finished a lovely afternoon sitting of cider and cakes, 'Would you like to learn some of the dryad dances?'

'Yes, please!' said Lucy, and leapt up in eagerness, which left Chrystmay giggling (though it was in a most ladylike manner).

'Tumnus, could you play something for us on the pipes?' asked the dryad.

Tumnus forced a laugh. 'Chrystmay, you know how long it's been since I've played those old pans! I've started the flute now, you recall.'

'Oh, you remember!' she said, pleading. 'Come, Tumnus. Play us the Silver Mist!' Chrystmay flung her set of panpipes into his arms. 'Now, Lucy, the Silver Mist. It's a spirited dance that is usually played in the middle of a gathering, because, done properly, it conjures up a lovely fog that swirls about until the end of the party. Now, Tumnus, if you'd begin. A bit slower, please.'

Chrystmay turned to Lucy. 'Right, then. Lucy, if you'd take my hand... yes, that's it.'

Over the next half hour, Lucy spent a marvellous time being led into a lively series of twirls and sprightly footwork. It was positively astounding to watch the dryad bend into such beautiful and bizarre positions that one knew she couldn't do if she'd not had such a flexible wood quality to her.

It was not long before Chrystmay was utterly delighted with Lucy's progress as a dancer, and declared, 'Why, she's an absolute natural! You try it, Tumnus!' And in one quick movement, she swept away from the girl, pulled the pipes from Tumnus's hands and put them to her mouth, then jostled him into position before Lucy.

Tumnus was amazed at how indeed talented a dancer she was, now that she had been taught actual steps. And it did not take more than a few minutes for a fine mist to seep into the air around them. Curiously enough, Tumnus did not take any notice to it. The matter seemed to be that he was not aware of anything beyond Lucy's face.

The author shall remark here that this is, by no means, anything beyond the purely platonic relationship between the two friends. It was, simply, that she did not seem as much like a child anymore. For the briefest glimpse, Tumnus saw something different about the little girl. As if a flash of sunlight had passed swiftly over her face, Tumnus could see her as she was not. He saw before his very eyes the woman that he'd suspected was yet to come: the adventurous, beautiful warrior-queen. It frightened him. What made the issue so more perplexing was his complete obliviousness to the fear. And all such confusing thoughts swarmed about his mind until he was so utterly bewildered that he could not say anything intelligent if he tried.

This was, though, a temporary state, as Lucy suddenly shouted out, 'Look, Mr Tumnus! It's working!' and then Tumnus became suddenly aware of the mist surrounding the woods around them.

A proud admiration shone in his eyes, almost a brotherly reflex. 'Lucy, you've done it! You've called the mists.'

'Have I?'

'Yes, and—' Tumnus was silenced by a sound. 'Did you hear that?'

'Hear what?' asked Chrystmay, whom Tumnus had presently forgotten.

'That, it's a... Lucy, someone's calling you.' Tumnus thought. 'Oh, bother!' he yelped, after some ponderings. 'Lucy, I'd promised Peter you'd be home before dark.'

'It's not yet dark,' pointed out Chrystmay.

'Yes, well, it's jolly well near here,' said Lucy, and shouted, 'Over here!' rather loudly to the hollow voice calling her name.

Not moments later, the king Peter emerged from the mist. 'Lucy! There you are!' he sighed, and scooped his sister into his arms.

'Peter, it's not dark yet,' fretted Lucy, releasing herself from his grasp. 'Must I really go?'

' 'Fraid so, Lucy. But –' Peter stopped. He did not speak again for quite some time.

'Peter? Are you all right?' inquired Lucy, and when he did not answer, she followed his gaze. The little girl subdued a giggle erupting from her mouth. Although she felt sure he wasn't listening, she said, 'Peter, this is Chrystmay.' because the High King seemed to have suddenly lost all interest in everything but the dryad.

'Mr Tumnus, I think he's ill,' she said in a bubbly whisper.

Tumnus gave a dry cough that sounded very much as though he were holding back a mocking laugh. 'Chrystmay, too, it seems.'

Lucy gave a sly look to Tumnus. 'Should we just... you know... leave them here?'

'And wait until fall comes for them to finally notice that they're breathing?' laughed the faun. 'No, lets... ah, wake them up.'

Both Peter and Chrystmay gave a slight jump as they were 'woken up', as Tumnus so aptly put it. The king finally came to his senses and insisted that he take Lucy home to Cair Paravel. Though he did not protest when Chrystmay offered to come as an escort. Tumnus thought it best to go with them till they reach the crossroads (but secretly, he wanted to be there, should anything notably humorous pass between Peter and his apparent affection), and then he would take the opposite path to his own home.

On the path to Cair Paravel, he and Lucy watched with merry eyes as the dryad and Peter continued ahead of them, silent. He was so utterly amused by this that he hardly noticed the gooseflesh on Lucy's arms and the chattering of her teeth.

'Why, Lucy! you're shivering,' he exclaimed.

'Yes, well,' Lucy said briskly, 'the fog does make it a bit chilly.'

Without so much as a second thought, Tumnus pulled the red muffler from around his neck and draped it over Lucy's shoulders. 'There,' he said.

Lucy smiled and rubbed her cheek against the dyed wool. 'Thank you, Mr Tumnus. But... won't you be chilly?'

'Me? Oh, no, Lucy. You can give it back tomorrow, I suppose.'

'Thank you, Mr Tumnus,' she repeated.

The thought did not ever cross her mind that she would never get a chance to return it to him.


	15. Part 2: Another Tomorrow

**Part Two of**

**The Narnia Trilogy:**

**When Children Cry**

**My first fanfic, so be merciful, I beg of you!**

**SUMMARY:**

**Part One: Basically, Tumnus' story of his friendship with Lucy.**

**Part Two: Their friendship after Lucy becomes Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia.**

**Part Three: Lucy and Tumnus reunite many years later, and how their friendship progresses into love.**

**And then we'll have a little Epilogue.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lucy or Tumnus or Narnia. In Book Two, I do, however, own my own character (sort of) who is the Dryad Chrystmay (fashioned after a friend, IridescentEpiphany), and I'm even in control of my own _plot-line!_**

**Hold on to your hats, kids. This one's pretty long, too. And very important; pay attention. This is also, by the way, the end of Part II. I know, I know, it's short, but I'm trying to get to Part III ASAP so all of my readers can have their Tumnus romance, however fluffy it may be.**

Chapter Fifteen

Another Tomorrow

_Tomorrow._ Tumnus had promised her that he'd visit tomorrow. Yet tomorrow was here...

And he was not.

Lucy paced about her bed-chambers, ever so often pausing to peer out the window in anxiety. It was not like Tumnus to be late, nor was he in likeliness to break any promise. It was a bothersome worry, and Lucy spent a good time wringing Tumnus's muffler until it would not have been in much of a condition to return it to him.

While she was pacing about, Susan poked her head into the room. 'Lucy –'

'Is he here?' Lucy said instantly, and stopped all her other doings to wait for an answer.

The answer did not take long at all in coming. 'No, Lucy. It's just that tea's ready.'

The youngest queen moaned and flopped into her bedspread. 'Su, he's late. Tumnus is never late.'

'I know, Lucy. I know.' Susan trotted to the bed and sat on it beside Lucy. Her sister was hugging the scarf tightly and pressing her face into the coverlet, and Susan stroked her hair in a most comforting fashion. 'Perhaps he forgot, Lucy dear.'

'He _never _forgets! and I have his scarf. He wouldn't forget his scarf.'

'Perhaps a more urgent matter came up that he had to attend to,' suggested Susan, although she did not believe it. In fact, she was nearly quite as ill at ease as Lucy.

'He _promised!_ And he keeps his promises, I know!' Lucy was near hysterics by now. 'He'd come no matter _what! _Something must have happened.'

'I'm sure he's all right,' Susan said, but her tone was not at all consoling. 'Dry your eyes, dear.'

'But I'm not crying,' said Lucy, and lifted her head up. Indeed, she was not.

And then Peter and Edmund came bursting into the room, pulling behind them a dwarf dressed fully in the uniform of the Narnian Palace Guard.

It was what the dwarf said that made her shatter, and she buried her face into Tumnus's muffler until it was drenched of tears.

❦

Tumnus smiled as he prepared a basket to take to Cair Paravel. He'd hoped that, today, he might teach Lucy to play the flute – perhaps the pans as well. She'd just seemed so very adapted to the music of the Silver Mists, he thought that maybe she might be as skilled in playing.

He'd been searching his den high and low for his red muffler; but, he'd remembered that he'd given it to Lucy the day before. Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he stepped out to the Summer air – now not so summery, as Autumn was approaching dreadfully fast.

The air was soft, carrying a scent of wild violets and fresh, damp earth, yet had the nearly tangible brisk touch of Fall. It would totally smother the sweetness soon enough, Tumnus knew, but hid away those thoughts. Why ruin a perfectly lovely day with woeful thoughts?

Oh, how little did he know...

As he approached Cair Paravel, he noticed a rather largish dwarf standing at the gate, adorned in Narnian guard apparel, not the elephant Puklei who usually stood guard at the doors. Tumnus frowned, wondering what had happened to his friend the elephant. It was the thought that led him to trot briskly up to the dwarf. Yet before he could open his mouth to ask, the dwarf had his own inquiry:

'You there,' said the dwarf sternly. 'are you the faun Tumnus?'

'Yes, sir.' Tumnus found himself answering with his eyebrows shooting up.

'You are not to enter the gates.'

Tumnus felt as though he'd been hit hard in the stomach; he could scarcely bring himself to sputter out, 'W-w-_what?_'

'I've got an order here,' said the dwarf, bringing out a scroll of parchment from his pocket, 'that states it clearly: "the said person(s) are thereby banished from the Narnian castle of Cair Paravel and castle grounds." And there! look, faun, if you don't believe me: signatures of all the Kings and Queens.'

Tumnus took a grab at the paper and scanned it. Yes, it said just what the dwarf had told him. He, Tumnus, was banished from Cair Paravel and surrounding lands. There... there, to make it horrid as ever – Lucy's quirky signature.

The air had been purloined of his lungs, eyes burning, stomach frothing. What had been done? This was an official document, there was nothing to do in changing it... never see Lucy again... signed by Lucy, Lucy wanted him gone... Lucy was angry with him, Lucy hated him, Lucy never wanted to see him again. _Lucy, Lucy, Lucy_... his dearest, closest friend had banished him from her sight...

It seemed as though no oxygen was coming to his brain, but it certainly must have, for he was breathing in such heaving intakes it was a wonder he didn't hyperventilate. He stood, shaking head and coldly sweating body, taking backwards steps... He did not really see the scene from his eyes, he was watching it; watching the dwarf look piteously onward, watching himself turn and run into the forest, watched himself rub his horns feverishly in confusion and sadness and anger... himself race into his den and throw himself on the bed... packing up his things into a case... racing outside the den again... hands blocking the whipping twigs and branches snapping out at him... running miles and miles, never stopping... into his old home on the other side of the Western Wood... throwing things off the floor and into the air... upturning wrecked tables... staring at all the destruction the wolves had left... throwing himself on the scratched bed, spilling out cotton... crying.

Crying.

Weeping.

Just as he had in front of Lucy.

Just as Lucy had for him.

Too many memories... had to get away, get away... not back to the new den, not here in the old one... too much remembering... she didn't want to be there, so he would throw her out of his mind.

He ran out of the den again, chest heaving, though he paid no notice. There was too much anger in him, too much angst. Running the flat earth twice over would still leave yet a multitude of feelings, he had to get rid of it all.

So he ran madly throughout the wood, screaming and crying out and spilling tears on the forest floor.

Lucy had forgotten him; now it was his duty to forget her in return. He didn't think it, but it pounded in the deepest pocket of his soul again and again, and he was helpless to it. His friend, come to help him live to the fullest as he once did. Now she'd thrown him away. Did friendship mean nothing to her?

They'd all gone from him, all left: Mother, Father, Lucy. _Lucy._ Not friend, not enemy, just not there. Mother, Father, Lucy, Chrystmay. No, there was Chrystmay, emerging from a clearing in the trees, a look of pity etched into her face. Not a dream, not a hallucination, but flesh and blood wrapping long arms around his shaking shoulders. Comforting him, giving him warm tea, asking what was wrong, listening avidly to his sobbing explanation, asking what it was in his pocket...

His pocket. Tumnus felt a hand into his pocket, bringing out

the handkerchief.

Tumnus wept only more, clutched in his sweating hand, tracing out the monogram _LP. _The monogram that was still filled with memories; he had to get rid of it somehow, destroy it.

'_Tumnus!_' Chrystmay shrieked. 'What are you doing?' She pulled his hand away, bringing the handkerchief out of danger from dangling over the all-consuming fireplace.

'Destroying her from my mind,' said Tumnus absently, blankly, as he held it over the licking flames once more.

Chrystmay whipped it out of his hand and held it tightly in hers. 'This is the only piece of her you'll ever have left!' she cried out, holding it out for him to see. 'Do you really want to erase her entirely?' she yelled, nearly in hysterics herself.

Tumnus was about to answer, then let out a mammoth sob and took the handkerchief from her. Not to place over the fire, but to dry his eyes.

_Of course I don't._

He was so absolutely drowning in everything around him that he did not stop to question _Why._ Why had she signed it? What had he done that would make her banish him? And what was he not understanding?

❦

'But _why?_' Lucy screamed into the red muffler. '_What did I do!_ He was my _friend!'_

The rest of the Pevensie royals were in too much shock to answer or comfort her.

'And you're _sure_ that's what he said?' Peter demanded to the dwarf who'd been guarding the gates.

'Yes, Your Majesty. Meaning no offence, but fauns are very likely to be taken in to sudden total shifts of mind. Their best friends become worst enemies, their homes become torture chambers. He won't be likely to be found in his same home, he'll have moved somewhere else. I'm sure it's nothing to _you,_ Queen Lucy, but it's just in their nature.'

This made her weep even more loudly. Lucy – not Queen Lucy, not the Narnian ruler, just little English Lucy – had found a pocket in her mind that was not screaming and weeping loudly enough for the whole castle to hear. A part of her wanted to believe that the dwarf was lying, it was all a lie... but he was a Narnian dwarf, sworn to the ways of the Lion Aslan. What reason could he have to lie to her? There _was _no reason.

The smallest bit of doubt in Tumnus crept softly to her mind. No... the dwarf was right. Why else would Tumnus serve the White Witch? That was it, the dwarf wasn't lying. Tumnus had been on the side of the White Witch, loyal to her – for a while. It must have been sometime while he was playing her to sleep, all those months ago, when he experience one of the faun's 'sudden total shifts of mind'. He must have turned against the Witch in that moment, truly befriended her – _for a while. _And now... now he'd changed again, turning against Narnia. Who knows where he'd gone now, if he'd left his den. And who knows who his new allies were, for the time being. Yes, the dwarf was right. Tumnus was a betrayer.

Totally unawares, Lucy wept more loudly than she ever had before. 'Sir,' said Kind Edmund quietly to the dwarf-guard, 'I think it's best if you leave.'

The dwarf bowed. 'I am sorry, Your Highness, that you've had to suffer the consequences of fraternising with fauns.'

A thought flickered across Edmund's mind, and he turned menacingly to the dwarf. 'If I find you're lying, dwarf...'

'Meaning no offence, Your Highness,' the dwarf murmured hurriedly with a bow. 'but would I lie to a King of Narnia?'

Edmund nodded, and the dwarf closed the door behind him. He smiled to himself as he answered his own question:

'Yes.'

And he hurried away to the servant's chambers, to shed his disguise as a Narnian guard. Hurried back to the Witch's not-so-abandoned palace of ice, thinking to himself the words of a champion.

_I was successful, Majesty. Ready the armies._


	16. Part 3: A New Lucy

**Part Two of**

**The Narnia Trilogy:**

**When Children Cry**

**My first fanfic, so be merciful, I beg of you!**

**SUMMARY:**

**Part One: Basically, Tumnus' story of his friendship with Lucy.**

**Part Two: Their friendship after Lucy becomes Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia.**

**Part Three: Lucy and Tumnus reunite many years later, and how their friendship progresses into love.**

**And then we'll have a little Epilogue.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lucy or Tumnus or Narnia. In Book Two, I do, however, own my own character (sort of) who is the Dryad Chrystmay (fashioned after a friend, IridescentEpiphany), and I'm even in control of my own _plot-line!_**

**Part Three begins now! In this chapter, we meet Lucy twelve years later.**

Chapter Sixteen

A New Lucy

Lucy took just a half a moment to whip an arrow out of her quiver, take aim, and fire; the arrow-head pierced the straw target directly between its invisible eyes. It had taken her the entire twelve years she'd ruled at Cair Paravel for her to perfect that shot. Twelve long years, and in that time, Narnia had made her forget. She'd forgotten her life in England and London, forgotten the lamp-post and the professor and the wardrobe. She'd even forgotten her own name: _Pevensie. _She was Lucy now, Queen Lucy, and though all of her sibling had titles now, like Susan the Gentle and Edmund the Just and Peter the Magnificent, she was still only Lucy.

Yet her archery instructor, the centaur Glonthelyn, had many names for her: Lucy the Rogue. Lucy the Tomboy, Lucy the Resilient. And Glonthelyn's eye missed nothing, which is exactly why he trotted over to her, shaking his head.

'Lucy, no, don't shoot like that,' he moaned. His English had greatly improved in those twelve years, as well. No longer did he speak in harsh-sounding words, although they still did have a distinctly Irish accent to them.

'Like what?' she asked, readying another arrow. This one was soon wedged in the dummy's chest.

Glonthelyn sighed. 'You shoot... well, like a man. You're only taking a second's worth of aiming.'

A frown curved on Lucy's face. 'But that's how the warriors do it in battle!' she protested, impatiently flinging a dark lock of hair over her shoulder.

'But Lucy, that's just it, you're _not_ in battle,' sighed the centaur. 'You're a queen, not a warrior, so I expect you to shoot like a lady, because you're never going to fight in wars. You were lucky those last two shots, but you need to take your time aiming. You can't depend on luck to make all your targets.'

It took all of the blink of an eye for the queen to string an arrow and send it sailing into the wooden board on the dummy that symbolised its groin. 'You call _that _luck?' she said slyly, indicating the arrow lodged firmly between the dummy's legs.

Glonthelyn smiled, though she suspected it was forced. 'That's enough archery for today,' he said, even though the lesson had barely started. 'Now, fencing.' He turned and walked to the practice ring.

Lucy followed him, taking hurried steps so as to keep up with the centaur's bulging legs. As she walked, she gradually shed her archery equipment. 'Master Glonthelyn, why is it that I can't go into battle? If men with less combat skill than I go to fight, why must I be held back?'

'Because _you_ are a lady,' said Glonthelyn, stomping his hoofs. 'and a queen, no less! and you must therefore be protected. Narnia _is not_ going to endanger their youngest ruler for her own desires!'

'I am not so young,' Lucy said, frowning.

'You're hardly an adult, though, at twenty.'

Lucy pulled a padded tunic on for her fencing instruction, and didn't add that she was nearly twenty-one. 'If I was a man,' she murmured, 'I'd already be an honoured soldier.'

'If you were a man,' said Glonthelyn, voice rising, 'you would not be so impertinent! We've given you specialised training in combat just because you've requested it –'

'If Pete and Edmund can have them, why not I?'

' –but asking to go into battle is preposterous! I won't endanger a member of the royal family!'

'I endanger _myself_, thanks very much, fully aware of the consequences!' Lucy shrieked. 'And Peter and Edmund have gone to war hundreds of times, yet they, too, are royal!'

Glonthelyn, about to answer, suddenly held his tongue, but Lucy could see his reply in his eyes, anyway. Her voice came softly, hurt:

'It's because you think women are weak.' Lucy came to the realisation in shock. 'You're not _defending_ women, you're suppressing them. Suppressing _me_.'

'I wouldn't have to,' he sniffed proudly, 'if you weren't so hoyden.'

'Oh, is that how things go?' she whispered menacingly. With that, she turned into the practice ring and grabbed the wooden sword. 'Very well,' she said, now in a loud voice. 'If I win this match, you'll give me the right to fight in battle _and _my own sword. I'm sick of these wooden rubbish ones.'

Glonthelyn was silent, and Lucy smiled. She could see the clockwork in his mind. On one hand, women were not supposed to be so skilled in fighting. On the other hand, Lucy had beaten her opponents (mostly dwarfs) numerous times. Her opponent, another dwarf, was standing nonchalantly in the opposite corner of the ring. He was hardly a match for the Queen Lucy.

'Very well,' said Glonthelyn finally. 'I'll take your wager. _But,_' he said, stopping Lucy's grin midway. 'You are not to fight with this dwarf.' Lucy's face fell completely. 'Fight me.'

'_You!_' Lucy said incredulously. 'We'll be outmatched!'

'And every opponent you've fought so far has had a handicap. Mainly, it is that they're short. Sorry, Yuren,' he added to the dwarf. 'But things are not so simple in war. In war, you'll often have to fight two or three enemies at once, while defending another. So I think it's only fair that you fight me, in that it will be the closest thing to battle that you've ever known.'

Lucy curled her lip in detest, then smirked. 'But you've forgotten, Master Glonthelyn, I have an additional handicap to being so short and inexperienced to your superiority.'

'And what might that be?'

'I'm a woman.' And she charged at Glonthelyn, sword at the ready. He was not taken off guard, however, for he grabbed the wooden sword from the dwarf who was still in the ring. 'Get out,' the centaur hissed to him, and Yuren scurried out of the ring like there was hot metal in his shoes.

It was, truly, a fair fight. Lucy was far better skilled with the sword than Glonthelyn had thought, and indeed more skilled than the centaur himself. It was because of his great size that he was able to overpower and block each move she made. Glonthelyn was panting heavily at each attack and defence, sweating profusely. Yet Lucy remained strong, bringing on new footwork and strikes. The centaur realised, with a pang of defeat, that he was being beaten by a _woman_. The thought, unbearable, led him to inconspicuously place a hoof behind Lucy's feet, then he heaved a great thrust towards her, causing her to step back and thus trip on his hoof.

She lay on the ground, elbows propping her up from behind, and Glonthelyn held his wood sword to her throat. 'Yield, madam,' he said, devilish joy in his eyes.

'You cheated,' Lucy whispered.

'If you ever went into battle, you would learn that enemies do not always follow combat chivalry.' Glonthelyn threw the wooden stick behind him. 'I win.' And he trotted away, looking quite smug.

'It wasn't a fair fight!' she yelled after him.

'Fair it was, my lady,' he called over his shoulder. 'Though you'd do well to practice that footwork!' He galloped off, and Lucy felt sure she could hear him chuckling.

'Ooh,' she whispered to herself, grimacing. 'He is just... just _nasty_ sometimes. But there's not much I can do _now._'

'I'd say he's a trickster, that centaur,' said Yuren the dwarf, who'd seen the whole match.

'Trickster he is,' groaned Lucy, standing up. 'But I've had just _enough_ of him. How is he supposed to teach me anything when all he does is criticise me for being a woman?'

'Don't complain, Highness,' Yuren said. 'You've still got the rest of your lessons to deal with.'

Lucy shook her head. 'That's it. I'm not going to deal with him anymore. Not today, at least.'

'What do you mean by that?' inquired the dwarf.

Lucy only smiled and lifted her skirts to run. 'I'm taking the day off.' With that, she raced into the forests. Yuren did nothing to stop her.


	17. Part 3: Being Reacquianted

**Part Three of **

**Narnia: When Children Cry.**

**My first fanfic, so be merciful, I beg of you!**

**SUMMARY:**

**Part One: Basically, Tumnus' story of his friendship with Lucy.**

**Part Two: Their friendship after Lucy becomes Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia.**

**Part Three: Lucy and Tumnus reunite many years later, and how their friendship progresses into love.**

**And then we'll have a little Epilogue.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lucy or Tumnus or Narnia. I do own (sort of) Chrystmay the Dryad, who may or may not appear in Part Three.**

**To ChildlikeEmpress and anyone else who was wondering: No, Yuren is definitely not the evil dwarf dude in Chapter Fifteen. Just a random dwarf who has absolutely no fencing skill. Pity.**

Chapter Seventeen

Being Reacquainted

As the woods closed in around her running self, Lucy laughed. She'd defied the boorish lessons that so dreadfully vexed her, and now she was free from them. Yes, she knew, of course, that she would face punishment and scolding when she returned, but was this not worth it, these few precious hours of freedom? Oh, how she longed to share it with someone. Not Susan, no, not her. She had been too caught up in the queenly act. Queen Susan the Gentle was being far too prim to enjoy adventures, and she was certainly in no mood to hear of them. Edmund. Yes, he would love this, too. Peter would love it just as much, if not more, for he needed something to draw him away from the pressures of being High King. She greatly looked forward to telling them about her escape.

It had been months since she'd last wandered into the forest, and this rendezvous was not short of bliss. How long had she gone without smelling the intoxicating scent of wild violets? How long had it been since she last felt the earth beneath her bare feet – at this point, Lucy threw off her shoes and left them beside a great birch tree, where she'd be sure to pick them up later. They would be too much of a hassle to carry all the while.

I cannot say how long she spent like this, skipping about the forest paths, chewing sugar-grass under the shade of a heavily foliaged maple, not giving a care in the world about getting dirty or her dress soiled. She sang loudly, some of the songs being Narnian and some were made up on the spot. She was not afraid of spinning around in circles again and again until she was dizzy, not caring if her hair was tangled, not caring that her cheeks were growing rather flushed indeed. It was mildly comical, for, what with her hair in such a state and her eyes so merry (not mentioning the fact that she was wearing a green dress), she looked like a wood nymph herself.

It was when she skipped around the corner of a path – seemingly familiar, yet she could not tell how so – that she spotted a white something on the ground. She bent downwards to pick it up, but at that moment, saw a retreating figure further on the path.

'Excuse me,' she called out to the person, 'I think you've dropped something!' The figure paid no attention, and Lucy took not a second glance at the thing on the ground before picking it up and lifting her skirts after the person. She moved into a short jog bouncing on the balls of her bare feet. 'Excuse me, sir!' she called out, for his hair was cut short, verifying he was certainly _not _a woman. This time, she got his attention and he turned around, still several yards away.

'Sir, I apologise, but you seem to have dropped –' Lucy stopped, taking one good look at the man before her.

No, not a man. '_Mr Tumnus!_' she cried. With not more than a second thought of proper protocol, she ran at the faun and threw her arms around him.

'Oh, Mr Tumnus, I've missed you so!' she said, holding him tightly.

'Erm, madam,' said the faun in an uncomfortable tone, 'I'm afraid I'm not this _Tumnus_ of whom you speak.'

Lucy's face fell. 'Oh.' she said awkwardly, and released the poor creature from her embrace. She looked at the ground, completely mortified. 'I'm sorry, sir, very sorry. It's just that... well, at a glance, you looked like –'

'Tumnus, yes. I know him.'

Lucy's heart leapt into her throat. 'Do you?' It had been years since she'd last seen Mr Tumnus, no matter why he'd left. Perhaps he still remembered, and perhaps... perhaps Mr Tumnus, wherever he was, would still want to be friends.

'Oh yes,' said the stranger. 'Very well.'

'Were you... were you his friend?' asked Lucy shyly, still staring at her feet.

'Sometimes,' said the faun, smiling.

Lucy frowned and looked up at the faun. 'What –' she began, but was cut off at the cunning expression on the faun's face. Her jaw dropped, then grew into a incredulous grin. 'Oh, Mr Tumnus, it _is _you!'

Tumnus smiled faintly. 'Yes.' And this time, when she nearly threw him backwards in a massive embrace, he hugged her back. 'Oh, I _knew _it was you,' she whispered. 'I _knew_ it. I thought... I thought you might have forgotten me.'

'I'd never forget you, Lucy.' Tumnus smiled, and then Lucy parted from him. For the first time upon their meeting, Tumnus drew a long, observant look at her face. And he was shocked.

She was as he'd imagined years ago, on that day when he was struck with the sudden vision of Lucy as an adventurous warrior-maiden, a stunning beacon of courage and beauty. This was as she was now, standing before him, still as joyous as ever: a living memory, a conjured dream. There was no denying now; she was a woman, with darkened long strands of hair and glowing crystalline eyes. She was very much taller than she had been at a younger age, though she did not quite amount to Tumnus's height. And though she looked entirely dissimilar to herself as a child, there was an undeniably childlike aura about her.

Lucy, too, seemed to be inspecting. 'Mr Tumnus, you haven't changed a bit!' she laughed.

_I'm afraid Lucy,_ thought he, _that you've changed entirely too much. _The fact of the matter was this: his old fear of Lucy growing up was now a pragmatic reality. Though, still, he remained unaware of the dread twisting inside him. 'But... Lucy, you look so different,' said Tumnus, and added quickly. 'Happier. Grown-up.'

Lucy frowned. 'Have "happy" and "grown-up" always been synonymous?'

'Of course not!' said he, grinning, and Lucy's face softened as well.

'Besides,' said Lucy, 'I can't look too grown-up. I haven't grown any for years.'

'You have,' Tumnus countered. 'See, now you reach my chin.'

'That's not a terrible much,' she giggled. 'How tall was I before?'

Tumnus mulled over the thought. 'About yea high,' said he, after much pondering, and indicated a spot just below his waist, where his blue muffler ended in a hem.

Lucy smiled. 'Right then, I take it back; that _is_ a terrible much.' She watched in familiar happiness as Mr Tumnus threw back and laughed at the sun with all his teeth.

'And I take back _my_ statement, Lucy,' chuckled he. 'You truly haven't changed at all!'

The two spent merry hours like this, reliving old tales and memories in an empty clearing of the woods. They were having the most jolly time that either of them could possibly remember.

And then it began to rain.

Tumnus started when an army of fat raindrops tumbled over their shoulders. He instinctively ran for the trees to shield himself from the water, but stopped when Lucy did not follow. 'Lucy, you're getting soaked,' he sighed. There she was, standing in the rain with her face heavenward and arms outstretched to the sky. She lowered her head to look firmly into Tumnus's eyes.

'Don't you remember, Mr Tumnus?' she said, smiling. 'When you ran out of Cair Paravel for no apparent reason during a storm. And suddenly started dancing!'

Tumnus grinned broadly at the memory. 'You can't ridicule; you were out there dancing with me until we were lost at dark.'

'Come _on,_ Mr Tumnus, have a go!' she cried, and seized his arms, pulling him into an animated dance of gracefully flailing arms and feet with butterflies of movement.

'But the fairies led us home,' added Lucy.

'And we both had dreadful head colds in the morning,' her friend chuckled.

This happy reunion did not continue long, however, for Lucy put a halt to her joy when she heard from the Cair Paravel bell-towers a sound that gave her a pang of guilt for leaving that morning. It was the bell-boy, of course, ringing out the dusk chimes.

'Blast! Mr Tumnus, I must go,' she said hurriedly. 'I'm sorry, but I should go home...'

'I'll escort you,' he said firmly.

'Oh, would you?' Lucy sighed in relief. 'That'd be marvellous!' Thus, with her left arm over his right, the two hurriedly walked to the castle. Lucy bit her lip and decided not to point out that they walked like this the very first time they met. 'Blast!' she cursed, when they'd nearly reached Cair. 'I've forgotten my shoes.' Then she shrugged in a melancholy sort of way and murmured, 'No use trying to get them now.'

'I can't go any further,' said Tumnus suddenly.

Lucy furrowed her eyebrows and frowned. 'What?'

'I can't– I can't escort you beyond this point.'

'Oh.' said Lucy, and did not ask why. 'Well, I suppose... We'll see each other again, won't we?'

'Oh, yes.'

'Well then...' She was at a loss for words. 'Good-bye, Mr Tumnus!' she said finally, and raced to Cair Paravel with mud squelching delightfully beneath her toes.

As soon as she walked into the door, Mrs Beaver was there to see her return and scrutinize her state. 'Goodness, where are your shoes, child? Look at your gown, it's soiled brown! By the Lion, you'll need a bath, you're absolutely soaked. I hear you walked out on your morning lessons today; where did your manners go?'

While Mrs Beaver was drawing the bath, Lucy told her absolutely everything about her adventures in the woods... except for Mr Tumnus. No, she thought, no, let's not tell her about Mr Tumnus just yet. Or Susan. Or Pete or Edmund, for that matter. I don't want them to know, however selfishly. They'll move in on Mr Tumnus and I'll hardly get a word in edgewise with all of them welcoming him back.

She leaned back into the steaming bath-water, relishing in its hot comfort. And she promised herself that she would look for Mr Tumnus tomorrow, wherever his new home was. Now that he was back, she wouldn't let him slip away again. Friendship was too precious to dissolve.


	18. Part 3: What the Narnians Didn't Know

**Part Three of **

**Narnia: When Children Cry.**

**My first fanfic, so be merciful, I beg of you!**

**SUMMARY:**

**Part One: Basically, Tumnus' story of his friendship with Lucy.**

**Part Two: Their friendship after Lucy becomes Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia.**

**Part Three: Lucy and Tumnus reunite many years later, and how their friendship progresses into love.**

**And then we'll have a little epilogue.**

**NOTE: I say 'love', but it is a very light romance and _very_ fluffy. Also, it does say in the book summary that war tears them apart. War was not what tore them apart, I'm sorry for that,but there IS a war. The dwarf in the end of the chapter is, in fact, the dwarf that split them up.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lucy or Tumnus or Narnia. I do own (sort of) Chrystmay the Dryad.**

**I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am for not updating! you must have thought I abandoned you. Now I feel so horrible. I've probably lost all my faithful reviewers. But that doesn't matter, because if I finish this story, it'll be a miracle.**

Chapter Eighteen

What the Narnians Didn't Know

Lucy bit her lip, but kept walking. Oh, dear, where could he be? Perhaps he still did not live in his den, or perhaps he lived somewhere entirely different. Perhaps he went back to his first den that the wolves had torn apart. Worse still, maybe he did not, in fact, want to continue their friendship. Was that why he'd stopped so abruptly at the castle yesterday? Weighing the basket in her arms, the thought crossed her mind that perhaps she should have left it in the kitchens. But surely... whoever lived in his den _now_ must know where Mr Tumnus had moved to! Yes, that would work if no other plans were successful.

It was a good thing that Lucy had made up her mind so quickly, because she found herself at Mr Tumnus' old den with hand poised at the knocker. Anxiously, her foot tapped repetitively on the front steps. Suppose he was nowhere to be found? Perhaps she'd ask... oh, who was that?... Chrystmay, the Dryad. One could only hope that she, of all people, would know where to locate him.

The door swung open.

'Mr Tumnus!' Lucy cried, and Tumnus could see her eyes light up like nothing ever had before. He stumbled back in a flare of shock.

'L-Lucy!'

'Good morning, Mr Tumnus.'

'Good morning, yes, to be sure,' he said, babbling a little. 'Might I ask... I don't mean to be rude, but... what are you doing here?'

Lucy suddenly thought herself very rude indeed for barging in on him, but tried to hide her shame as she said: 'I thought that you maybe... would like to go on a picnic with me.'

Tumnus did not understand the overwhelming surge of happiness that had jolted through him. 'Today?'

'Well, yes.' Lucy felt like a complete fool at this, but could not help feeling a slight bit better when Tumnus let forth a emanating grin.

'Oh, yes, let's!' said he very joyfully, and before either of them knew what was happening, he closed the door behind him and took Lucy by the arm.

The two walked in a simple, beautiful merriment on the forest paths in such a way that only old friends can. You could not find a more precious sight had you searched the world over.

'Now, where _shall _we have our picnic?' Tumnus asked Lucy.

'I don't know,' laughed she, 'but that looks like a fine place!' She pointed to a large, flat rock nestled on top of an abundance of fallen trees and soldered there with a soft garden of green moss.

It did prove to be a very fine picnic-spot. Tumnus could not have enjoyed the day more if he tried. Lucy had concealed in her basket a good tuck-in: deviled eggs and strawberries and cream, cold chicken (which is nearly as good as hot chicken) and grapes, crisp, sweet cherry pie. Tumnus felt that a great banquet could not have equaled such a picnic. They spoke merrily of many things, mainly laughing at Susan's pompous suitors.

'– and he had such a face! You should have seen it! like an overstuffed marionette.'

'Was he a terrible oaf?'

'Oh, yes! And such a glutton as well. But when he spoke, it felt as though I were speaking to a woman!' That made Tumnus laugh. 'By the Lion's Mane, he was nearly as awful as Prince Herrin.'

'Prince Herrin! Did he show any resemblance to the bird?' asked Tumnus.

'Not at all! He looked more like a great turkey than a heron. I daresay he was the worst suitor I've _ever_ had.'

That made Tumnus sit up straight at once. 'Not Susan's suitor?'

'No, not hers, I'm afraid. Mine aren't quite as awful, but there are some that just make me want to throw them off the great tower.' Lucy did not catch the stiffness in Tumnus' voice. He did not seem to notice, either, because he was back to his casual, friendly sort of voice in a short amount of time.

Tumnus had hardly noticed that he'd brought his flute along with him until halfway through their picnic. 'I suppose I never really did teach you how to play the flute,' he murmured, fingering the instrument.

'No, but that's all right. I did so want to play it, though,' she added to herself.

'You can now,' said Tumnus, and the flute was brought to Lucy's attention for the first time.

'Oh, lovely!' said she, and he handed it to her. 'How do I play?'

Tumnus looked for the words in his mind. He spoke slowly, as to get them out correctly: 'You don't play it, really. You sort of let it teach you.' At Lucy's confused expression, Tumnus smiled and shook his head like a child. 'You'll understand while you play.'

Lucy hardly had time to admire the way Tumnus' hair settled about his head before putting her lips to the flute. She was, in fact, fascinated by the way that the melody let her play the right notes. It was long and flowing and sweet and enigmatic, and as Tumnus placed his hands behind his head to relax, he could not have asked for more beautiful music.

Then Lucy hit a wrong note.

Tumnus' eyes flew open to see her looking down at the flute in study.

'I don't know what I did,' she said, brow in a knot. 'I thought that was right, but –'

'Play it again,' Tumnus instructed. Lucy did so. He nodded and said, 'It's a common mistake; your finger isn't covering the hole entirely.'

'This one?' Lucy adjusted her pointer finger.

'No, _this_ one,' said Tumnus, and pulled her smallest finger over the hole. Lucy played it and smiled.

'That was it,' she said, nodding

They spent the day jubilantly, growing ever more blithe as the day wore on. By afternoon, the sunlight was settling nicely on the Western Wood, and they were already planning their next adventure.

❦

The dwarf stormed about the dark chamber in a great rage. Nothing had been successful yet, and the armies were getting impatient. Then again, he'd quite lost his temper with the army.

'You cannot continue like this!' he boomed at the troops in the hall with him. 'You've bided and become cowards! You've not been able to rage war on Narnia for _ten years!_'

The army remained silent.

'I've tried not to come to this,' said the dwarf, whose name was General Reslev. 'for I am not certain she is ready. And many of you...' his stern, cruel glare swept unsettlingly across the room, 'will be most unfortunate if she returns.'

Everyone shifted uncomfortably.

'But I am convinced,' Reslev continued in a louder voice, 'that it can be done no other way.

'We shall resurrect Jadis.'


	19. Part 3: Prince Corin

**Part Three of**

**Narnia: When Children Cry.**

**My first fanfic, so be merciful, I beg of you!**

**SUMMARY:**

**Part One: Basically, Tumnus' story of his friendship with Lucy.**

**Part Two: Their friendship after Lucy becomes Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia.**

**Part Three: Lucy and Tumnus reunite many years later, and how their friendship progresses into love.**

**And then we'll have a little Epilogue.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lucy or Tumnus or Narnia. I do own (sort of) Chrystmay the Dryad, who may or may not appear in Part Three.**

**Author's Note: I'm trying to get 100 reviews before the story ends. It's still a long way off, but please review, and I'll... I don't know. I'll give you all a Mr Tumnus that you can keep for yourself! How's that? And I'll give you Oreos! (Disclaimer: I don't own Oreos, either.)**

**Thank you to A Amelia Black for pointing this out (and anyone else who's read _The Horse and His Boy_). In this chapter, I'd previously written that Corin was one year older than Lucy. I'd thought that could work out, but really, it would make a total mess of things. So I've changed it, and now he's 'several years her junior'.**

Chapter Nineteen

Prince Corin

It had been forty-seven hours, and the process was nearly complete. Reslev kneaded his fingers together in anxiety as he watched the White Witch's face slowly gain colour again. In gradual time, the decaying flesh on her body mended and the stench of death was melting away.

Reslev's breath caught heavily in his chest as her eyes flew open. _A Witch never really dies_, said the triumphant voice in his head. He watched in awe as Jadis sat up and flexed her fingers. The people in the room with her, mainly dwarfs, gasped fearfully as she stood and took in blissful breaths. She walked to the nearest dwarf with her black, endless eyes fixed in a frightening manner. Before he knew what was happening, Jadis had wrapped her white fingers over his throat and was stiffening her icy grip.

Jadis' lip curled as she pried her hand from the lifeless creature and threw his body on the floor.

'General Reslev,' she murmured, and he came forward timidly. 'Where are we?'

'In the old Ice Palace, my lady,' he said, bowing deeply.

'Fool!' she hissed. 'If we are planning an attack, they will search here first! Do you have any battle tactics in that swollen head of yours?'

'All attempts have been unsuccessful for your bidding, Majesty,' said Reslev in the most respectable voice he could muster. 'That is why we called you.'

'We shall first need to find a better headquarters,' said she. 'Remember this, Reslev. And I am no longer a slave to Ice.'

'Please, Majesty, what do you mean by that?'

'She who they called the "White Witch" is forever gone. I now seek from my life the Flight of Death. We are no more allies of all Ice creatures, but with the vultures. The birds of the sky will be our slaves. Does that tell you where we shall now seek hideout, slow-thinking dwarf?'

'I believe, Majesty, that you seek dwelling in... in the _sky_,' said Reslev, 'but that cannot be –'

'It is the sky indeed where we'll build out fortress,' said Jadis, 'but only for a while. Upon conquering Narnia, we shall kill the Kings and Queens to take their thrones and castle. Our spies will be our slaves, the birds, and our fortress will be on a black storm cloud. See to it at once, Reslev.'

'Yes, my lady.'

'And I,' said Jadis, lifting her neck up in a queenly fashion, 'am henceforth the Winged Empress.'

She flung open the heavy doors to reveal a roomful of anxiously waiting subjects. They all arose.

Reslev called out loudly, 'All hail Jadis, Winged Empress!'

The chamber rang out: 'All hail the Winged Empress!'

❦

'Lucy, why are you dressed for court?'

That was the first thing that came from Tumnus' mouth when he entered Cair Paravel.

Lucy heaved a sigh that sent her hair fluttering. 'I have a new suitor. He's supposed to be coming today.' She folded her arms across her chest and flung herself backwards into a chair. 'I hate them. Hate them all, those suitors.'

A short-lived and forced smile flickered on Tumnus' face. 'Are they all so bad?'

'Every last one of them.' Lucy pronounced each word with stern solidity.

'Perhaps this one will not be so...' Tumnus searched for the right word. '...vexing.'

'Oh, I _am_ vexed!' She sat up forcefully and paced about the room. 'It's proper that I _should_ marry, but I don't have to. Why then, do they bring these _vexing_ (as you so aptly put it) suitors?'

Tumnus smiled. 'I've never been to court, I wouldn't know.'

Lucy moaned and buried her hands in her face. Her siblings were scattered about the room, all of them looking nervous, but none so much as Lucy. Long ago had she reacquainted Tumnus with her sister and brothers, and they had invited him many times to Cair Paravel. It was in this openness that he assumed the proclamation of his exile had been done away with: he was now permitted to the castle grounds. He didn't mention the matter to Lucy, because he imagined it might make her upset. It would make him upset, too, though he didn't know it.

'What's this one's name?' Tumnus asked, meaning, of course, the suitor.

'Prince Corin of Archenland,' spat Lucy. 'And I'll bet you anything he's a perfect beast.'

In the past three months since they were reunited, Tumnus learned quickly that it was best to keep his distance when Lucy was due for a suitor. True enough, Susan was the beauty of the family, but it did not stop scads of noblemen wishing for Lucy to be their bride. She, too, was a long mile more than plain, although she was not called to such attention as her sister. It was because of Lucy's boyish behaviour that won her fewer hearts.

'And... what do you know of this Corin?' Tumnus asked timidly.

'That he is several years my junior and a boxer,' huffed the queen. Then, sarcastically: 'Doesn't _he_ sound promising.'

'You might like this one,' Tumnus said, though he silently knew their wishes were alike. If Lucy married, she would have less time for their friendship and would have to attend court, oversee political issues and planning – be a slave to queenship.

Arising from beyond the great entrance doors was the sound of blasting horns. Lucy's head shot up as a herald's voice rang out from behind the walls: 'Announcing His Royal Highness Prince Corin of Archenland!'

In anxiety, Lucy clutched Tumnus' hand for comfort. The faun felt a jolt run up his arm. Susan straightened her elaborate skirts, and Kings Peter and Edmund gave a _look_ to Lucy before heaving open the oak doors. Tumnus' breath was caught motionless in his chest as the prince entered.

He was carried in on a litter with the curtains drawn, so no one got a good look at his face. Then the litter was set down and a servants pulled back the blue drapes. Corin stood slowly, lifted every part of his strapping body before his own head.

Lucy gasped and wrenched her hand unawares from Tumnus' fingers to cover her mouth. Corin peered at her from under his golden hair and smiled.

'Queen Lucy, I presume?' His voice was gallant, holding a round and curious accent. In answer, Lucy could only nod deeply. His smile grew wider and whiter as he turned his eye to the other nobles. 'Queen Susan the Gentle, Kind Edmund the Just, and High King Peter the Magnificent.' Corin bowed low from the waist, and he was received with a flourish of bows and sweeping curtsies. Tumnus bowed as was tradition for fauns: one knee bent and the other leg straight in front. Corin continued: 'It is an honour to be in your presence.'

Tumnus waited to be introduced by Lucy, as she'd done with all her previous suitors, but it never came. He looked up at Lucy to see her gazing raptly at Corin, and he at her. It seemed that neither of them would be speaking anytime soon.

Tumnus suddenly felt very small.

**Review and I'll give you a Tumnus**


	20. Part 3: Twice Competing

**Part Three of **

**Narnia: When Children Cry.**

**My first fanfic, so be merciful, I beg of you!**

**SUMMARY:**

**Part One: Basically, Tumnus' story of his friendship with Lucy.**

**Part Two: Their friendship after Lucy becomes Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia.**

**Part Three: Lucy and Tumnus reunite many years later, and how their friendship progresses into love.**

**And then we'll have a little Epilogue.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lucy or Tumnus or Narnia. I do own (sort of) Chrystmay the Dryad, who may or may not appear in Part Three.**

**Author's Note: I'm trying to get 100 reviews before the story ends. It's still a long way off, but please review, and I'll... I don't know. I'll give you all a Mr Tumnus that you can keep for yourself! How's that? And I'll give you Oreos! (Disclaimer: I don't own Oreos, either.)**

**IMPORTANT: Unless you're a fencer, you probably won't understand much of this chapter. It's been so long since I've written a fencing scene, I just couldn't resist. But, either because it will bore you, or because you won't understand it, you can skip the fencing parts in this way: stop reading at the row of asterisks (or stars, or whatever you wish to call them) and begin again at the second row further down the page. I promise, aside from the boring part in the middle, it's a pretty good chapter.** **Also very long.**

Chapter Twenty

Twice Competing

Tumnus smiled as Lucy brought her sword down on Yuren, her usual fencing partner who hardly matched her skill. That is well, for Lucy had grown into a fierce swordsman in the practice ring.

'Hah! Touché!'she cried. She'd backed him into a corner and was holding the wooden sword at his throat. Tumnus laughed and thought of the real sword hidden back home in his den. Secretly, he'd had a dwarf create a strong rapier of the finest quality. He planned to present it to her as a Christmas gift. The holiday was little more than a month away.

It'd been a late autumn this year, and even in mid-November the leaves were coloured like the sun. The air was crisp and freshly brisk, but not uncomfortably cold. Tumnus reflected that Prince Corin stayed longer than any suitor ever had: one full month.

From seemingly far away, Lucy's laugh echoed emptily in Tumnus' bleak mind. 'I win again, Yuren!' she cried as he yielded his sword. Still laughing, she spun around and noticed for the first time Tumnus leaning on the railing of the practice ring. Their eyes connected, which had not happened in weeks; Lucy had barely acknowledged his existence since Prince Corin's arrival.

'Tumnus,' said Lucy, and if he'd been listening a bit more attentively, he would've noted the shocked whisper that escaped her mouth in a gasp. But, no matter how hard he was listening, I do not think he'd be able to understand the emotions in the outburst.

As they stared at each other, both were silent.

It was Lucy who broke the noiseless moment. 'Would – would you like to have a round with me?' It seemed the simplest thing in the world to ask at the moment.

She meant fencing, of course, and Tumnus stepped into the ring, grabbing a wood sword.

'No blows to the head,' said Lucy as he donned the padded equipment. She continued reciting the required rules for practice fencing. 'Three points above the waist, two for below, no knuckle hits–'

'No thrusting,' said Tumnus, interrupting her, 'double for sweeps and slashes, and penalty for both hands on the tang. Play to first yield or points to the time limit.'

Lucy gaped at him.

'I've fenced before.' Tumnus shrugged. What he didn't say was that he was quite good. And what they both knew was this: she was better.

They positioned themselves.

'Begin,' whispered Tumnus.

At first, they only circled each other, searching for weaknesses. _She has excellent footwork_, thought Tumnus. _And perfect form! How am I to beat that?_

Lucy noted his flawless posture and strong arm; the sword in his hand did not quiver while suspended, like most did. But he was not as sturdy on his legs, with them not being as supple as her own human ones. His hoofs also allowed little balance – she could use that to her advantage.

Tumnus attacked first. It was the simplest of moves: the Dagrius. Accordingly, Lucy countered it along with a swerve of the head, but they both drew knowledge from the second-long impact. Tumnus, as Lucy noticed, was quick-thinking and swift of blade. She bet he knew every move, their title, the counter, and the best move to follow it. He fought with his mind and precision.

Tumnus saw how Lucy fought: with her strength. She struck her blows like a hammer, but her movements were rough and vague. Her feet were fast, but her arms were not so much... she made up for that with sheer force. If he were to strike below the waist, he wouldn't gain as many points, but that would make her bear to one side and leave him a clear path to her side for a three-point blow.

Another attack came, but this one was from Lucy. It was another Dagrius, and Tumnus countered it almost boredly. If you were watching, you would see at once from their moves and expressions on their face what I must now write for you: this was not yet the match. It was only a game. Each knew the other could fence and fence well, but they tested one another in the simplest manner. Lucy smiled slyly, and Tumnus' eyebrows flickered upwards in a devious challenge.

That was where the games ended.

Tumnus lunged forward, aiming a blow to the shoulder, but Lucy quickly swung his blade to the side. There was a split second before she attacked that their eyes met. She struck only the sword, but Tumnus felt that it would not last for long. Her battle tactics were to take all the breath out of her opponent so he would be easier to defeat. She lifted her sword in a high swing, where it briefly met his. Then Tumnus aimed for a blow to the leg, but she caught him in a second before impact.

Once more they circled, feeling each other's defences. There was a sudden loud sound as Tumnus forced his blade forward, but Lucy blocked it with such strength that Tumnus almost lost his balance. He then began a move that he'd only ever used twice: the Thibault. With that move, he dug into Lucy's tactics and struck so hard that he was barely able to step out of it. That blow hit her sword with such force that she reeled back a whole two paces.

It was a peculiar thing that neither of them spoke in this match; it's common habit to hurtle insults and threats back and forth between opponents, but they both remained silent. Eyes spoke in the stead of words, and their actions allowed little room for breath enough to speak.

Neither of them had yet been hit.

But that was about to change.

Upon stumbling backwards, Lucy threw her strength forward and went straight into a broad butterfly-sweep that raked from one shoulder to the opposite hip. Tumnus winced, not in pain, but in knowledge that she'd won the first contact. (If they had been fighting with real blades, we'd call this 'first blood', and Lucy would have won. But, as you recall, they were only using wooden swords, and were playing to first yield, not blood.) Tumnus caught his wits quickly – quicker than Lucy had expected, so she was not prepared for this – and swung around using a back-handed slash. If Lucy hadn't been so surprised, she might have used a different counter, but she blocked it in a swing, thus crossing blades at the chest.

That is a move that hardly ever happens, and if you are the smaller, it's usually to your disadvantage and should get out of that as soon as possible. The faces of the opponents are only so close, with their weight being forced on their opponent. Lucy, the smaller, would have been at a loss in this position, had it not been for Tumnus' goat legs. They were far weaker than her own, and she could have easily used her own strength to force Tumnus down on his knees. But she didn't do that. She didn't do anything, and neither did Tumnus.

Their faces were inches apart.

For what seemed days – but was really seconds – they did not move, save for their heavily breathing chests. The only thing that either of them seemed to notice was each other's eyes.

Centimetres apart, and the space was shrinking –

'Bravo!' yelled a voice from outside the ring. Tumnus and Lucy both snapped their heads to see the person who had spoke.

'You're very good,' said Prince Corin to Tumnus, though he did not look at Tumnus at all. Pompously, he strode into the ring. 'Very good. But I think I could be better.' With that, Corin took the sword in Tumnus' hand and faced Lucy.

Lucy smiled and sighed, 'Corin, is there anything you _can't _do?'

A nonchalant shrug whisked over his shoulders, followed by a dashing grin. 'Win the heart of a Narnian Queen?'

Tumnus felt the insides of his stomach turn to lead as Lucy _blushed. _What he did not know then would be his ruin.

❦

As Tumnus stared blankly at his food that evening, he inwardly winced at Lucy and Corin exchanging secret glances and whispers. Each piece of food tasted bitterly sour, and every sound around him stabbed at him like minuscule needles.

From the moment Corin and Lucy left in the middle of dinner in the Great Hall, Tumnus wanted to leap up and cry, '_No!_', but he could not. She was the Queen of Narnia, and he, a lowly faun of no importance, could do nothing to stop her actions. And then, everything became grey and bland. He could feel and see nothing until they returned, Lucy holding a hand to her giggling mouth, and Corin wearing a massive grin on his face. Tumnus needed to know what had just happened, but his curiosity was satisfied soon enough.

'Excuse me,' said Corin in a loud voice, tapping a dinner knife to his glass. All twenty people in attendance at the table went silent.

'I would like to announce,' Corin continued, 'that the Queen Lucy of Narnia has just accepted my marriage proposal.'

**Ooh, I bet I'm really killing you. That's my second cliffie!**

**REVIEW...please? Remember, I'm trying to get 100.**


	21. Part 3: From a Closing Distance

**Part Three of **

**Narnia: When Children Cry.**

**My first fanfic, so be merciful, I beg of you!**

**SUMMARY:**

**Part One: Basically, Tumnus' story of his friendship with Lucy.**

**Part Two: Their friendship after Lucy becomes Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia.**

**Part Three: Lucy and Tumnus reunite many years later, and how their friendship progresses into love.**

**And then we'll have a little Epilogue. I was actually thinking of having a Part 4 to sum up things after the war.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lucy or Tumnus or Narnia. I do own (sort of) Chrystmay the Dryad, who may or may not appear in Part Three.**

**Thank you everyone for my 100 reviews; I was not expecting to get them that fast! I love you all and hope you guys like Part 3 a whole lot better now because there's a war (plus a little, teeny bit of romance).**

Chapter Twenty-One

From A Closing Distance

At the castle Cair Paravel, all were rejoicing in the engagement of Lucy and Corin. The wedding would take place in one month, time enough for the preliminaries to be dealt with. Following the ceremony at the Archenland palace, Lucy would have to leave forever her throne at Cair Paravel and rule alongside Corin.

Lucy did very much like Corin. At any rate, he was much better than any of her other suitors and nevermind that he was far younger. She did not love him, but you must remember that in those days, not everyone (and especially not royalty) married for love. It wasn't pleasant thinking of leaving her family, but it would preserve peace between Narnia and Archenland – for that, she would marry.

But those worries were for later. Now was a time to get away from worry. That was why she was just entering the library.

'Oh!' she gasped.

Tumnus turned around and saw Lucy there in the doorway. He gave such a start that he dropped his book.

'Y-y-y... Your Highness,' he stuttered, and bowed. Of the book he paid no notice.

'Mr Tumnus, I – I'm sorry, I didn't see you.' Lucy looked down at her hands. They were sweating and clammy.

'Your shriek,' Tumnus smiled, 'would suggest otherwise.' Then he hastily added, 'Your Highness.'

The sad thing about that was this: when Tumnus called her 'Your Highness', she did not correct him.

Both of them stood there for a while, until Tumnus whispered, 'I should go... Excuse me, Your Highness.' Then he bowed and walked out of the library.

'Mr Tumnus!' Lucy called after him. Tumnus reappeared in the doorway, one hand resting on the frame. 'I – would you like to go for a walk this afternoon?'

His head bowed slightly. 'As you command, Your Highness.' When he left, Lucy wondered as to why she felt so alone.

❦

The first few moments of their walk were spent in vast, uncomfortable silence. A stray hair meandered from beneath Lucy's silver crown; Tumnus had a great urge to tuck it behind her ear.

_No!_ hissed a voice in his head. _That would be showing improper conduct toward a queen of Narnia!_

Tumnus frowned. _I've touched her plenty of times before. Why should it make such a difference now?_

_That was before she was engaged._

_So? _Tumnus asked. _That shouldn't matter. I'm just her friend._

_Oh, really?_

'How are you?' Lucy asked, muting Tumnus' voices.

'Quite well, thanks. And how are things between you and Prince Corin?' When Lucy didn't answer, Tumnus said quickly, 'I'm sorry, Your Highness. It's not my place to ask.'

'No, that's all right,' said Lucy, and forced a smile. 'Things are going wonderfully. He isn't like I first imagined him to be at all, but a good person. He'll make a fine king.'

There was a short silence.

'It's peculiar,' said Tumnus after a while. 'I've always imagined you getting married in summer.'

'Have you?' Tumnus didn't get a chance to make an excuse before Lucy continued. 'No, I suppose I never thought of winter, either.' She shrugged. 'Corin's timing wasn't excellent, but it doesn't matter _when _we get married, so long as we marry at all.'

'I suppose,' Tumnus said. 'I wouldn't know, Your Highness.' And for some anonymous reason, Lucy felt very uncomfortable at that.

A bright, red-coloured leaf floated down from a shedding maple and landed tranquilly atop the crown of her head. Her eyebrows creased slightly as she plucked it out of her hair. Smiling, Lucy traced the veins of the leaf. An old faun proverb crossed Tumnus' mind.

'They say,' he began slowly, 'that when a leaf falls, someone's thinking of you.' A fern beech leaf fluttered across his nose. Then he remembered his place in society, and said hurriedly, 'Your Highness.'

That was the first time she noticed his stiff attitude. 'Mr Tumnus,' she said, and gave an expression that was partway a smile and partway a frown. 'do you remember years ago, when I was still a child?'

'Why, yes,' he said, surprised at this.

'I distinctly recall saying something to you. It's something that you seem to have forgotten.'

'Pray, Your Highness, whatever is that?'

'_Dash _the formalities!' she grinned, and nudged him slightly in the ribs.

'But you are a queen, Highness, and I must acknowledge you with proper respect.'

'Before today, you never called me anything but _Lucy_.'

Tumnus frowned. Yes, that was true enough. Why had the change taken place?

Corin.

'Then I must ask you, Highness,' Tumnus said slowly, 'that if I am to call you _Lucy_, you must know me simply as Tumnus.'

'But... Mr Tumnus –'

'_Tumnus_,' he emphasized. 'I am only Tumnus.'

Lucy looked into his eyes and saw something. It wasn't something she could identify, and she wasn't sure if it was there before or if she'd just never noticed it. But it made her smile like she never had. '_Tumnus_,' she whispered.

There was yet another silence, but this one was not so ill at ease. Hand in hand they strode, footfalls alike, with barely the space of a foot between them. In time, Lucy came to rest her head upon his shoulder.

'It just occurred to me now,' Lucy said, and without thinking: 'Why _did _we ever stop being friends? You know, years ago, when I was only a little girl.'

Tumnus felt infuriated towards her. How could she not remember? 'Beg pardon, _Your Highness_, but _you_ signed an official document that stated the matter clearly! I was banished from Cair Paravel and castle grounds!'

Lucy's head snapped up from its perch on Tumnus' shoulder. 'I did nothing of the sort!'

'I believe, Highness, that you bloody well did.'

'Tumnus, why would I? I'd have no reason to; you were my best friend! When the dwarf told me that...' She gulped. 'that you never wanted to see me again –'

'But I didn't say that!' Tumnus protested. 'I never... what dwarf?'

'A guard at the gate. He told us – my brothers and sister and I – that you stopped by to deliver a message and... and that was it.'

'The dwarf was a guard at the gate?' It wasn't a question so much as a statement, but his words were cold and hard as stone.

'Yes, but –'

'The one that showed me the document of my banishment... he was a dwarf of the Cair Paravel guard.'

Lucy frowned for a moment, then her eyes grew rather large.

They both turned around and raced back to the castle.

❦

'Tell me, Reslev,' the Winged Empress Jadis said sternly to the dwarf general, 'what measures did you take to weaken Narnia?'

'If it pleases you, Majesty,' said Reslev, bowing, 'I disguised myself as a Narnian guard at the castle Cair Paravel and convinced them to alter some of their defences on the Western border that would be to our advantage.'

'Is that all?' the Empress snarled.

'No, not all,' said Reslev. 'I've sent a few troops to disguise as Narnians as well, in case they find any vital information to use for invading their land.'

There was a pause. 'That's it?' Jadis hissed.

'No, there was one thing more,' said Reslev. 'I took steps to weaken the Kings and Queens as individuals.'

Her eyebrows lifted. 'Such as?'

'Many of them were unsuccessful, but I did manage to separate the youngest queen – Lucy, that was it – from a friend of hers: a faun by the name of Tumnus.' Jadis' head shot up, alert, at the faun's name. 'I know it does sound insignificant,' Reslev continued, 'but she became much weaker after the loss, and she was so easily broken. Her brothers and sister softened upon seeing her waste away, so they, too, are frailer.'

'That is good, Reslev. I see that you're not utterly without use.' Jadis stood and closed her eyes, taking deep, icy breaths. 'We are nearly ready for attack.'


	22. Part 3: And So It Begins

**Part Three of **

**Narnia: When Children Cry.**

**My first fanfic, so be merciful, I beg of you!**

**SUMMARY:**

**Part One: Basically, Tumnus' story of his friendship with Lucy.**

**Part Two: Their friendship after Lucy becomes Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia.**

**Part Three: Lucy and Tumnus reunite many years later, and how their friendship progresses into love.**

**And then we'll have a little Epilogue. I _might _have a Part Four, as a sort of aftermath of the war, but we'll see.**

**I ask you to review, but you don't have to. Warn me if it's too fluffy, but I promise some good LucyTumnus stuff in the next chapter, and the one after. Not necessarily fluff, but good stuff.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lucy or Tumnus or Narnia. I do own (sort of) Chrystmay the Dryad, who may or may not appear in Part Three.**

Chapter Twenty-Two

And So It Begins

The High King Peter intently listened to his sister and the faun relive the tale, accompanied on either side of him by Kind Edmund and Queen Susan. A bit behind them was Prince Corin, who was sometimes listening, but often cast glances at Lucy.

After a while, Peter said, very slowly, 'It seems to me that... that this dwarf fellow... Well, Tumnus, he must've forged your so-called 'official' banishment papers, and Lucy, he's lied to all four royals of Narnia –'

'Bloody well did,' she muttered.

'– impersonated a royal guard of Narnia, sentenced an illegitimate banishment... Lu, this man's a criminal, whoever he is.'

'Of course he's a criminal,' she scowled. 'but what do you want to do about it?'

'To give him a jolly good flogging,' said Peter.

'Peter, you must do something!' cried Queen Susan.

'Hush, I know,' said Peter. 'But _what?_ We don't know his intentions by all this nor his name or where to find him. My best suggestion would be to look at the records of who was on guard on that day. Does anyone remember when this all happened?' Edmund did, and told Peter the date. Peter relayed it a herald, who raced across the hall to the record-rooms.

'But Peter,' Edmund said timidly. 'if he did all those things, do you really think he'd have put his name down on a guard schedule?'

'Of course not,' said Peter. 'But to make things a little less suspicious, he might have placed a false name in the schedules. Or if not, we could at least locate the other guards on duty that day and question them.'

'King Peter,' said Corin from far off. 'Once we locate him, might I have permission to box him?'

'Permission denied,' Peter said flatly.

'Blast,' said Corin. 'Might I have permission to do it without your permission?'

'This isn't a game, Corin,' said Lucy quietly. 'Someone did something awful, and we don't know to what purpose or for what representation.' She turned to Peter. 'Don't you have any ideas what might be the source of it?'

'I do indeed, Lucy,' he said, and shuddered. 'but not many are probable, and each more disquieting than the next. At the least harm, someone must've been displeased with your friendship with Tumnus, Lucy.'

'At the most?' Tumnus asked, though he was very disquieted himself about the matter.

Peter had a nervous, frightened expression quiver over his face. 'I haven't gotten that far yet,' he said, 'but there's always something worse.'

At that moment, there was a great sound from outside the throne room. Tumnus frowned and poked his head out the door to see what it was.

A centaur had just thrown open both the entrance doors into Cair Paravel. He reared up on his hind legs and galloped with a deafening clopping sound on the stone floors. Tumnus' eyes widened as the centaur looked up the grand staircase before poising his horse's legs and clamoring up the marble steps. He was followed by a hoard of guards and heralds. One guard stood in the centaur's way with a spear pointing at him, but the centaur didn't so much as blink as he gave a vast leap and soared over the man. With a loud, echoing noise of hoofs on stone, he resumed his race.

The centaur galloped into the throne room and stood before his audience. 'Your Majesties,' he panted. 'I apologise for such an entrance, but I have vital information for you from the Western centaurs.'

'Ho, slow down, men,' Peter instructed the guards standing fiercely at the doors. 'Put up your weapons.' They did so. 'Sir, what news do you bring?'

'An army,' he panted, gasping for air. 'There is an army plotting attack against Narnia.'

Susan gasped and clutched Edmund's hand. 'How do you know this?' she breathed.

'I was out hunting in the Western Wood, accompanied by two friends of mine. One had noticed a fire in the distance and was in favour of looking in on it. We did, and discovered that the fire wasn't just that, but an encampment. There were hoards of creatures: dwarfs, minotaurs, and others with faces so horrible that I cannot explain, all making armour and weapons.

'We did our best to remain silent and hidden, and in that time, we could only hear of their purpose. I heard nothing of who was their leader, but only that they intend to rage war on Narnia.

'After tense moments, I heard a sound beside me. I looked to see in horror that one of my friends had been shot from behind. My other friend had noticed, too, and we both immediately turned to see who had cast the arrow. It was a Black dwarf, and he'd shot my other friend before either of us could blink. I was only a second away from my death before I took flight, dodged the arrow, and trampled the archer. From then on, I raced to warn Your Majesties of the danger. Here I stand.'

There was a moment of silence before Queen Susan the Gentle said, very softly, 'Peace, centaur. We mourn for your losses.'

'This isn't the time for condolences,' hissed the centaur. 'We must take action now. King Peter, what say you?'

Peter stood and paced over to the nearest window, looking out to the East. 'I think,' he said, after some time, 'that this anonymous dwarf must have been a part of this army.'

Lucy blinked tardily and looked down. 'But that doesn't make sense. It's been ten years since that event. Should it take a decade to assemble an army?'

Peter's head shot up and his gaze snapped to Lucy. 'If it should, imagine how big it would be.'

There was an ominous settling over the room.

'King Peter, what say you?' the centaur asked again, much louder.

'All is lost,' Peter whispered. 'Their numbers will be too tremendous for our own.'

Lucy stood with careful movements, slowly glided to King Peter and placed her delicate white hand on his shoulder. She whispered so softly that only the both of them could hear:

'Much may be lost,' she whispered. 'but we have hope, and that is something that cannot be taken by threats. When hope is gone, there is always faith. When that is gone, not much else can be done. _But that will not happen_.'

'Our hope has been taken,' Peter said shakily. 'And our faith is fading swiftly.'

'I do not believe that Aslan would see us defeated so.'

And it was the name, only His name, that returned hope to Peter. A golden dust swept over their hearts, each fleck whispering _Aslan._

'He won't have lost hope for us,' said Lucy.

Peter stood, said loudly in a magnificent voice: 'Ready the armies.' There was a shining in his eye that could not be dulled.

Peter faced the centaur. 'What is your name, sir?'

'Ilrael, Your Majesty.'

'Ilrael, I thank you for your bravery and loyalty to Narnia, but you've travelled the length of the Western Wood and beyond. Go to the kitchens and have what it takes to regain your energy, then take residence in a guest room for your rest. You'll need it, if you're going to fight.'

'I will, sire.'

'Herald!' he called, and a herald stepped forward. 'Send word to all Narnia of this upcoming battle, ready our armies for those who would fight.'

Corin spoke, 'You Majesty, King Peter, I proffer my armies in Archenland for your service.'

'Call for aid the Lands of the North and Arhcenland,' said King Edmund loudly. 'And bring forth our generals.' He looked to Peter. 'We can't do this alone.'

'No,' said Peter, shaking his head. 'We cannot.'


	23. Part 3: Worse Fates

**Part Three of **

**Narnia: When Children Cry.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lucy or Tumnus or Narnia. I do own (sort of) Chrystmay the Dryad, who may or may not appear in Part Three.**

**I may add a Part IV, but only if I get enough reviews... hint, hint.**

**This is a short chapter, but with some good LucyTumnus bonding time, which I feel this story sorely needed. Enjoy!**

Chapter Twenty-Three

Worse Fates

Lucy had escaped the castle again, taking with her a fine gown on her very back. She needed to think about things, and couldn't do so with the plans of the upcoming battle buzzing through the tense air.

As Lucy lay there, she paid no notice to her dress, being soiled terrifically by the dirt and torn by twigs. It seemed that time had been lost within itself, for the bright colours of fall foliage had faded into winter, and the sky had become a blanket of intense grey-blue. The tension was tight and thin as a string, as the air often is before a storm. Yet the sunlight was emanating brightly from somewhere she could not locate.

Lucy reached to the back of her head and undid the tight braids circling round and round her head. Sighing in relief, she shook her golden mane down and massaged the sides of her head where the plaits had pulled tightest.

_Now you are a lioness,_ Aslan would say someday. And in her wildness, she looked it.

The lioness threw herself backwards onto the uneven earth, tangling her mane most handsomely into the spindly twigs and fallen leaves. Her lion's cheeks were flushed from running, and she was now scented with the perfume of dulcet dirt.

I do believe she would have stayed there for a long while, had not someone been coming round the corner. It was seemingly unfortunate that she didn't hear the footsteps, because she was totally unprepared when a most familiar faun came into view. She gasped and stood, trying her best to look like the regal queen she was.

It didn't fool him. 'Lucy, whyever do you have leaves in your hair?'

'Oh, I was just – I was just... erm...' She was trying to find a logical explanation, and it didn't come. But she needn't answer.

'You were on the ground, just there. You needed something solid that would always be there and never change: you needed the earth, and it came. I know.'

Lucy sighed and sat down again. The sun's rays were bright in the west, and the dark clouds smothering the sky were darker than ever. '_How_ did you know?'

Tumnus walked over and sat in the rugged earth beside her. 'I do it all the time.'

'Do you?'

'Always.'

'Why?'

'Why did _you_?'

Lucy frowned. 'Tumnus, are you to go to battle?'

'Yes.'

'And are... are you frightened?' Lucy asked, and perched her head upon her knees. 'Are you scared?'

'Of what?'

'To die.' Lucy uttered the word softly, with so many emotions swimming through her voice.

'A little,' said Tumnus, and he lay back in the ground. 'But there are worse fates than death.'

Lucy was about to ask, but then found that she knew exactly what he was talking about.


	24. Part 3: On the Eve Of Battle

**Narnia: When Children Cry**

**Part III**

**DISCLAIMER: You know I don't own it. Why do I even bother saying so?**

**I have no idea what to do for the next chapter, so you guys might have to wait a while...**

**But if you REVIEW you might have to wait a little less...wink, wink.**

Chapter Twenty-Four

On the Eve of Battle

Tumnus was glad that, when the wolves had ransacked his den, they hadn't found the secret cabinet. It was hidden, very cleverly indeed, into the wall, and he kept only one thing there. Of course, he'd transported it when he moved into his new den, and now kept it in a less hidden place.

He opened the drawer and pulled out the mail first, fingering the fine steel mesh before slipping it over his shoulders. Next came the shoulder piece and brassards, followed by cuisse and knee pieces, all smoothed over in red-painted metal. The helmet was last to go, with Tumnus tracing over the gold filigree and crimson pewter, then finally placing it cautiously over his head.

_My father went away to war, too._ Yes, and this was his armour. Tumnus had hoped that he'd never have to use it, but the time was now here.

As Tumnus lifted up the final piece, his breath caught in his chest. Here it was: _Lavin_. That was its name, Lavin: his father's sword. In a flash he whipped it out of its scabbard and held it right up before his face.

That was the true knight in Tumnus.

❦

'_What!_' Kind Edmund cried when he'd gone to the falconer.

'Sire, I can't begin to say how sorry I am! I should have been at my post but – they just weren't there!' The falconer was cringing into a corner.

Edmund sighed. 'I'm sorry, Guaden, I really am. This isn't your fault, but... But how could have _all_ the birds just disappeared overnight?'

'That I don't know, Sire,' said Guaden, the falconer. 'But this isn't... just isn't _natural!_ I don't think they would've all gone on their own.'

'What are you saying?' Edmund moaned, kneading his forehead in distress. 'That someone kidnapped our birds!'

'It's possible, Sire, though I don't know what purpose it would serve,' said the falconer.

'Edmund,' said Peter, who'd remained silent on the other side of the bird nursery. 'do you think the... the _other side_... could have taken them? Birds are the most reliable source for discovering the other team's defences, and perhaps they didn't want that as a disadvantage...'

'That's what I was thinking, brother mine,' Edmund sighed. 'This battle won't be won easily.'

Peter smiled grimly. 'Did you ever think it would be?'

❦

Lucy looked down at the armour in her hands, thinking it lucky that Peter had grown so much after their arrival at Cair Paravel. He was fitted for new, better armour that was more to his size, so she'd secretly kept his first set in her own chambers for years. Now the time had come for her to take up the armour and put it to use.

It was a relief that the helmet's visor was fully facial, thereby she wouldn't have to duck around before battle and try not to be noticed. If anyone found out that she – a woman, and queen, no less – was plotting to fight in battle, she'd be put under lock and key. As it was, she'd need to make herself as much of a man as possible to go by inconspicuously. She'd already bound her breasts flat, but there was one thing more she had to do...

Lucy gathered all of her thick lion's mane into a bundle, holding Father Christmas' dagger in one hand. She didn't want to, but it was a mark that must be made. It was not only that she needed to appear a man, but she needed to become the Lucy she'd been all along. Perhaps she'd feel differently after the deed was done. Lucy poised the dagger beside her hair, lifted it –

'Don't,' said a quiet voice by the door.

In shock, Lucy dropped the dagger and spun around on the spot to see who it was that made her fate continue undone.

'Tumnus,' she gasped, and backed into the wall. There he stood, coated in full armour. He looked so brave, so valiant... so scared.

'I know what you're doing,' he whispered, but Lucy could still hear him. 'And I know I can't stop you, however much I'd like.'

'Tumnus, this isn't... This really isn't what it seems...'

'Yes, it is,' Tumnus said, walking into the room. 'You're planning to go into battle as a man. I know I can't keep you from doing that. It's... it's...' Tumnus gulped. 'I've known you'd do it someday.'

'_How?_' whispered Lucy. '_How do you do it? _You always know what I'm doing, always know my purpose for doing it. _How?_'

Lucy saw him smile, but it was the saddest thing she'd ever seen. She at once wanted to burst into tears.

'I've seen you like this. I'd always imagined you like it, but I never wanted to believe it would happen. Lucy, I can't change you. You're... you're a free spirit. You can't be harnessed, not by your brother, not by the laws, and certainly not –' Tumnus looked down. '– by me.'

Lucy took forward steps to him. 'Oh, Tumnus.'

You would've wept to see that look in his eyes. 'You must do what you see right, but _please._' He looked Lucy straight in the eye. 'Don't cut your hair.'

'Tumnus, I –' began Lucy, and raced to him, but he silenced her with a look.

'I had this forged for you,' he said, and lifted a second sword off his belt. Lucy sharply took in a breath as she gazed on its fine scabbard. 'I thought it would be a Christmas gift, but... You'll be needing it sooner than I'd hoped.' Gently, he placed the sword in her hands and closed her fingers around it. 'Think of it as an early wedding present.' Lucy heaved a great sob and threw her arms around Tumnus, weeping into his shoulder.

Since she was only a child, that was the first time he'd seen her cry.

It was such a different cry, filled with so many different tears, that Tumnus knew something that he'd not been able to admit for ages. He put a hand to cup her chin, lifted her head up to meet his. 'Lucy,' he whispered, though he was saying more to himself than to her. 'You truly aren't a child anymore.'

Then they held each other like only good friends do, knowing that before the battle was over, they might not ever see one another again. It was too long before Tumnus reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded fabric square, small and white.

'Here,' he whispered, pressing it into her palm. 'You need it more than I do.' And though that was what he said, Lucy saw one tear glide down his cheek.


	25. Part 3: Sign of the Eagle

**Narnia:**

**When Children Cry**

**Part III**

**A LucyTumnus, though that doesn't get too exciting until Part III (which you're reading, apparently). I might add a Part IV as an aftermath, and then an Epilogue. In the future of this fic, expect something dreadful. I find this book entirely too fairy-tale-ish.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Narnia, duh.**

**Sorry this is such a short chapter, but things in my life are so hurried and chaotic right now. How fitting! because the next few chapters will be about a battle, and that's just how battles tend to be. I'd know. Besides, I write too many long chapters, so this should be a nice refresher for you.**

Chapter Twenty-Five

Sign of the Eagle

A large, glorious bird soared resplendently across the sky and circled the Narnian battlegrounds that were in disarray, then turned and flew in the other direction. 'Hey! Eagle in sight!' yelled out a watchman.

Peter rushed next to him from planning with Brallin, a general for the battle. 'Not one of ours?'

'King Peter, it _is_ one of ours! But... look, sire!'

Peter gaped. 'It's turning the other way! A spy; shoot it down!'

The watchman did nothing.

'Bloody hell, just _shoot it_!'

'Sire, it's... it's a Talking Beast.' And that, of course, was the terrible truth. A Talking Beast had betrayed Narnia for the title of spy.

'By the Lion,' breathed Peter. 'It's happening. They've just sent the eagle. They'll attack shortly. _We aren't ready._'

'King Peter, how shortly?' The watchman trembled.

'Give it a half hour at the most and they'll be on top of us.' It was the occurrence in ages that High King Peter the Magnificent had been _frightened. _Then he turned quickly to the general. 'We don't have much time,' he said feverishly, the words flinging out of his mouth. 'They'll be here in only a short while; they just sent the eagle. But it will have seen us in chaos – that might be to our advantage. They know we won't be expecting them, so they may take more time to plan their maneuvers. But I wouldn't count on it. Assemble the troops as quickly as possible. Give the horns their signal for recruits. We march for war.'

At once, a deep blowing sound arose from the top of Cair Paravel. The sound carried for miles, reaching the ears of every Narnian soldier that had been forewarned. They'd been told to ready their armour, their weapons, their skill for a war and report to Cair Paravel. Now the hour was too late for a battle plan, only soldiers were needed. And soon.

Tumnus' head jerked up from his place in the Cair Paravel stables. Lucy, too, looked up from smothering her horse in armour.

'_What!_' she hissed. 'He's mad! We haven't any time ready for this battle!'

'Lucy, I think you should just go,' Tumnus said. She obliged and saddled her horse.

Then, 'What about you?'

A grim veil settled over his face. He was a very slow runner, being a faun, and would never be able to stand by her side (as he'd promised) if he was competing with Lucy's horse. 'I'll catch up.'

Her answer was immediate and with such a voice that he couldn't argue: 'Get on.' Tumnus did, climbing up the armoured horse, so closely behind Lucy that they were touching. 'Hold on tight, Tumnus.'

'I'll never let go,' he whispered. Their eyes met.

She struck the reins.


	26. Part 3: Riding to Uncertainty

**Narnia:**

**When Children Cry**

**Part III**

**This chapter is based on the Battle of Beruna, mentioned briefly in _Prince Caspian_. It may be a little difficult to understand, especially if you don't know much about planning battle. There isn't much LucyTumnus, but it leads up to that. Review please!**

**DISCLAIMER: Don't own it. Don't even own this battle.**

Chapter Twenty-Six

Riding to Uncertainty

From across Narnia, all had heard the plead of the war-horn. Warriors in their homes slapped on helmets and took up their swords without question or hesitation. The centaurs that had been called out for help earlier now quickened their pace to aid their King.

Presently, King Peter and Edmund saddled their great horses, followed by the war-generals and soldiers. From the woods surrounding the Cair, Talking Beasts and fauns and even a few Red Dwarfs leapt out from the dark trees. In a fluid movement, they all gained speed and raced forth to King Peter's call:

'We ride for the Fords of Beruna!'

In the castle stables, Lucy kicked the flanks of her stallion. He raced forward in a blur of strength and splendour, Lucy nearly a mirror image of it. As one, the stallion, Lucy, and Tumnus galloped onward to join the fleet of soldiers. It was lucky there were so many, for a two-rider horse would have certainly caught someone's eye. As it was, in the sea of faces, they were hardly conspicuous.

The Fords of Beruna was an ideal place for battle: the Great River took a very sharp bend, causing there to be a very acute angle running for miles westward. The enemy was attacking from the West – they'd be forced into the angle by the river, therefore allowing Narnia an advantage for better grounds. The enemy would be forced to retreat or forge the river, giving Narnia a higher ground. There was also a most convenient hill that led up to the River that would let Narnia see the enemy before they were even aware, and the archers would have a clear path because of it.

At full speed the army rode, the Northern wind whipping across their faces. Oh, the wind. Lovely as it felt, that would almost certainly cancel out their advantage of high archery grounds – all arrows would bear right.

Lucy, riding the stallion and almost the wind itself, was suddenly stopped in her intensity for battle. She frowned, then lifted her visor a little.

'Lucy, what are you _doing?_' hissed Tumnus.

'Sssh. I'm trying to smell,' she whispered. She lifted her nose into the air. Yes, the scent was present... a disquieting thought.

'Tumnus, wasn't it fair weathered this morning, and bright?'

'We're marching to battle and you're asking me about the _weather!_'

'Was it, or am I just imagining?' She held stubbornly in her question.

'Yes, it was,' he whispered, 'but I can't suppose how that's in any way relevant.'

'It smells like a storm,' she said. 'Can you smell it? The air reeks of it.'

'You can _smell storms?_'

'That isn't the point! Storms can't travel as fast as this one is.'

'How is that important?' Tumnus asked, but at once was stopped in his curiosity. He was so intent to the sight that he hardly noticed Lucy's perplexed murmur: 'It's coming from the West...'

'Lucy,' he whispered, 'I know you can't see it because of your visor, but... but there's really a storm-cloud coming our way.' Lucy swore under her breath. 'And it's moving... Lucy, it's perpendicular to the wind.'

'Impossible,' she whispered. 'That can't be, it's just –'

'Halt, men!' cried out a voice from the front of the formation. Edmund's. All of the soldiers slowed and finally stopped at the sound of his command, then arranged themselves: archers in the back and on the higher ground, cavalry directly in front, with weapons: spears and tipped lances frontal, followed by swords, daggers, then axes and halberds. (A halberd is somewhat of a combination of battle-axe and pike. Its oddly-shaped blade in fixed to the top of a six-foot wooden pole and carried preferably on horseback, though it's used by foot-soldiers as well.)

Kind Peter slowed his horse, then had the strong mare pace back-and-forth before the troops. 'Men,' he cried out to them, 'we've been brought into this war with no forewarning, no mercy, and hardly any warriors. This enemy that is unknown to us hasn't the chivalry to officially declare war upon Narnia, and it's only by chance that our Narnian honour has prevailed thus far.' He stood higher on his steed. 'We mightn't make it through this battle, but know this:

He spoke in a louder, more confident voice. 'Much may be lost, men, but we have hope – something that cannot be taken easily. When it's been stolen from us, we have our faith in Narnia and Aslan. When that is gone, we can do little else. _But that will not happen!_'

'My speech,' said Lucy to herself. 'My idea.'

'We have our land, our Narnia to defend! Fight, men, and –'

Peter was interrupted by Edmund, pointing up to the sky. 'Peter, look to the skies!' The High King frowned and shot his gaze heavenward, and witnessing a sight horrific beyond any.

A hoard of birds, mostly Narnian, sped out from behind a dark cloud, led by massive vultures. Behind them, the cloud was descending from the sky and pouring out onto the ground. The darkness of it smothered the sun in black. From the cloud bolted outward an army of evil: Black Dwarfs with their bows and heavy axes, Minotaurs bellowing obscenely, goblins of grey, warted skin, creatures hideous and resembling overgrown bats.

They flocked over land, poised for battle as the darkness unmasked a crash of thunder. The sun remained hidden as the skies opened, releasing a flooding, hard-hitting rain. A single white lighting streak stretched its legs down to the earth for less than a second, then retreated into the black heavens. The last warrior stepped down from the cloud, unseen by anyone but Tumnus on his perch far off: a woman clad in men's armour and a feather headdress. Not like Lucy, Lucy was honourable and pure. This lady, this abhorrent creature was hiding something he couldn't understand.

The Black Dwarf leading the army let out a dire war-cry as they charged forward.

The Battle of Beruna had commenced.


	27. Part 3: The Battle of Beruna

**Narnia:**

**When Children Cry**

**Part III**

**SUMMARY: ...If you've read this far into the story, I think you've gotten the general gist of it by now.**

**DISCLAIMER: Take a wild guess. And the answer is... NO! Don't own it!**

**I've shortened the battle scenes for you guys who hate these boring parts, which is really sad. I love battle scenes. LucyTumnus good stuff in later chappies. ... Is it just me, or are my chapters getting shorter? Ack! They are! Don't hate me! (Or do you _like_ shorter chapters?)**

**If you review, I will absolutely love you! I don't expect you to, cause I haven't updated in nearly a week (or more). But you will get my eternal gratitude!**

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The Battle of Beruna

'Men! Brandish arms!" cried Peter, and all about the battlefield was the sight and sound of warriors readying their weapons. Tumnus unsheathed Lavin, his sword and held it in his right hand.

'Draw your sword, Lucy,' whispered he. 'Take your sword and never, never let go.'

With shaking hands, she did so. 'Tumnus,' she gasped, 'I – don't know if I – I can't... I don't think I'm brave enough.'

'You have courage enough for this,' he whispered. 'I know. I've seen it.'

For a reason unknown to her, she wanted to pull off the gauntlet on her hand and hold her hand to Tumnus' cheek, feel his bare skin with her own. 'Tumnus, if we die –'

'We march forth!' shouted Peter from the front line. 'If we go to our deaths, it is _for Narnia!_' He kicked the flanks of the white mare, leading the army in a gallop to their yet unknown fates.

This is the most fearful part of any battle – when the front line meets the enemy, but those in back are made watch. Tumnus could see from a distance the clashing of bodies, spears meeting flesh. The enemy worked its way toward the heart of the Narnian army.

'Lucy,' whispered Tumnus, 'we won't be able to fight like this. Our army is already at a disadvantage, and it's only the beginning of the battle. We'll most certainly die, but I want you to promise me that whatever happens, you'll defend yourself.'

'Tumnus, what do you mean?'

'_You must defend yourself when I'm gone._ It will be easier if... yes, it must come to this.'

'What? Tumnus, you're scaring me.' Her stallion rode faster, drinking in the air as he galloped full speed.

'I must do this, Lucy,' said Tumnus, and leapt down from the horse.

'_Tumnus!_' screamed Lucy. '_Tumnus, don't leave me!_'

'I'm sorry, Lucy,' he whispered, knowing she couldn't hear. 'I must.' If he'd stayed on the horse, it would be too easy for an enemy to slay them both. The only thing to do was leave them each to fight alone. At once, Tumnus felt an empty, aching feeling to know that might be the last time they'd see one another.

He raised Lavin, racing forth to the enemy lines. It wasn't long before an enemy came upon him: a minotaur, thick and menacing with a bloodied mace in his hand. Tumnus cried out as the mace was swung at him, and ducked low, then kicked the minotaur from behind. He drove Lavin into its chest, wincing as the beast let out a roar.

_I've killed it_, thought he. _Killed. I, a murderer._ It was strange to think that the one previous battle he'd fought in a decade ago, he'd never thought of it that way.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a heavy hand aimed a hawk's beak at him. Tumnus swerved out of its way, but the blade pierced his brassard and trailed behind a crimson path of blood on his arm. Tumnus yelled out in pain, attacking the hand to grab the hawk's beak. He snatched the weapon and flung it out to the body before him. It lodged in the creature's chest, and the body fell to the ground.

_We're losing_, thought Tumnus. The thought came to him again and again as he formed a single unbeatable force with his sword. Oh, Tumnus was injured greatly, but not once did they falter. He wouldn't lose Narnia to this foe, this enemy that was yet unnamed. The opponent that had emerged ominously from the West. _They would not take Narnia._

Another minotaur issued from the sea of fighting bodies, clutching a bludgeon. It swung the spiked sphere toward him, but Tumnus thrust out Lavin and embedded the red blade into the minotaur's stomach. The beast let out a shrieking moan that made Tumnus wince. As he withdrew the blade, the minotaur swung out the bludgeon once more and, with its dying breath, clubbed Tumnus in the head.

Tumnus screamed in pain, shooting up a hand to clutch the wound, but not before the minotaur fell forward, bringing Tumnus down with him.

Everything went black.


	28. Part 3: A Choice is Made

**Part III**

**Narnia:**

**When Children Cry**

**DISCLAIMER: Wow. I'm getting pretty tired of saying 'I don't own this'. This is 27 chapter's worth of that one quote... plus all the other fanfics out there that had to say the same thing... wow.**

**Be prepared. Happy endings are NOT my thing. Muahahaha... leave a review and I will LOVE YOU FOREVER!**

Chapter Twenty-Eight

A Choice is Made

The first thing he became aware of was the throbbing pain in his head. Tumnus moaned and lifted his hand to it. He winced, and brought his hand down. It was covered in something red and sticky. In his daze, Tumnus wondered who threw paint over his head. The he realized what it really was.

Tumnus gasped and tried to get up, but felt a heavy mass lying on him. With every ounce of strength he had left, Tumnus grunted and hoisted the thing off him. In horror, his eyes fell on the corpse in realisation that it was, in fact, a dead minotaur. Tumnus shuddered, wondering how long he'd lay beneath the cadaver.

He rose slowly, moaning in pain and nausea. The blood was thick on his head, oozing down into his eyes. With shaking, weak hands he cleared his vision. The sight awaiting him brought the nausea to erupt from him.

Wiping his mouth of the foul taste, Tumnus sprinted forward, shouting, '_No!_'

The sight was this: the strange armoured lady, standing before a bank of the Great River, holding a sword to Lucy's throat. Both their helmets were lying useless on the crimson battleground, the Lady's with a monolithic dent across the visor.

The Lady looked up and sneered at the mere faun. 'No?' she murmured slyly. That voice, it was familiar.

'Don't you dare hurt her,' said Tumnus in steely tones.

'And why not? She is my enemy, and impersonating a man, no less. Is that not a deed worth punishment?'

Lucy, meanwhile, said nothing in fear of what would happen of the act. She wanted to cry out Tumnus' name and run to him, pour bucketfuls of her cordial over the wound sprawling across his temple. But the cordial wasn't with her. She'd lost it a while back, and now it was laying at Tumnus' feet. With her large, fearful eyes, she indicated him to pick it up. Slowly, he did.

'Lay a finger on her,' hissed Tumnus, 'and I _will_ kill you.'

The Lady lifted her head and laughed derisively; such a laugh that Tumnus wanted to shout out and shield his ears from the sound. 'You?' laughed she. 'You cannot kill me. I, the Winged Empress will never be defeated!'

'Touch her and you will be.'

She laughed again, cruelly. 'Very well. Have it your way.' She seized Lucy and jerked her up from the ground, her sword's blade crossing the girl's throat. 'Give me that cordial, Tumnus, or I _will_ kill her.'

Tumnus raced forth to give the Winged Empress the glass bottle, but Lucy shook her head violently, and he stopped in his tracks.

'I'm waiting, Tumnus,' she hissed. Tumnus' eyes widened. _How did she know my name?_ There was something about her eyes that wasn't quite _normal_...

'You're killing her, Tumnus,' the Empress chanted, digging the blade into her throat the smallest bit. Lucy cried out in pain as a drop of blood stained her skin: deepest red on purest white.

'Remove your sword, and you'll have the cordial,' said Tumnus, sounding far braver than he felt.

She laughed again, queerly and utterly horrific. 'No,' she whispered.

Silently, Lucy sent out a plead to Tumnus. _Don't do it. My life isn't worth this._

Tumnus received the plea, but paid no attention to it. Trembling, he strode forth and placed the bottle in her bony, outstretched hand. She clutched it with a blissful expression of sheer satisfaction painted over her closed eyes, then released Lucy, letting her tumble to the ground.

Tumnus knelt. 'Lucy?' he whispered. 'Lucy, are you all right?'

'You never should have given it to her,' she hissed, eyes wild with fear, but he ignored it. He'd taken Lucy in his arms and was grasping her tightly, tears leaving clean trails on his dirty face.

The Winged Empress paid no attention to the two, instead holding the bottle and taking deep breaths filled with anticipation. _If a drop may cure any injury, imagine what the entire bottle could do_.

She ripped the lid from the brim, holding it to her lips,

and drank.


	29. Part 3: Dying

**Narnia:**

**When Children Cry**

**Part III**

**DISCLAIMER: How many times do I have to say it! I DON'T OWN NARNIA.**

**Note from Me, Author: I've erased _In Narnia _(which was a pretty good book. If you liked it, I'm sorry. If you didn't like it, I'm even sorrier. If you didn't read it... well, you missed out). HOWEVER! I do have it set up in a joint account with IridescentEpiphany (the pen name is now Iridescent Earth and Swords) and you're welcome to read it if you wish. (Trust me, you wish. It's WICKED-SWEET!...Wow. Who says 'Wicked-sweet' anymore?)**

**Anyway, this chapter is not the end of the story. Bear with me, here, and please don't stop reading. I've been losing some of my readers lately, and it's making me sad. Yes, my chappies have been declining in length and content, but I apologise. My parents are restraining me from the Internet (ex: one hour online a week is _excessive_. Not just a lot, but _excessive._ My parents have absolutely no vocabulary, now where did they get that word?)**

**Enjoy, if you may, and REVIEW please?**

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Dying

Jadis tossed the bottle to the earth, feeling the power rush through her, through every vein and breath. Oh, the _power!_

'_NO!_' screamed Lucy from Tumnus' arms, staggering forward to do something, anything... but she could do nothing.

'Lucy, stand back!' Tumnus stumbled up and grabbed her shoulder.

'Tumnus, don't you see what you've _done!_' shrieked Lucy.

The Empress paid no attention to them, but looked up to the sun in bliss, crying out for the world to hear, for the earth to tremble at, for the sun to waver, 'I am invincible!'

Above the loud rushing of the Great River, Lucy heard the words with fear and knowledge. And Tumnus, quavering behind her, had strength left for only four words:

'What have I done?'

Her hawk ears picked up the whisper in an instant. 'You, Tumnus,' she hissed, striding forward with dooming steps, 'you shall pay for your betrayal! Yes, you shall die!' Her feet left burning, evil marks upon the grass as she strode to him, lifted her sword to meet his flesh —

At once, she screamed in agony, collapsing in a heap, rubbing her face and arms manically. All over her body, the skin had boiled into a red, blistering coat of rawness that made her voice ripped into a shattering cry. In a moment, she looked fleetingly at the faun before her, and he at her.

_The eyes... _thought he. _The eyes... all black..._

And she burst into flame.

In the whole of an instant, the tongues of fire stretched to mammoth lengths. Tumnus could see what would happen seconds before it did, and tried to prevent it. '_Stand back, Lucy!_' he yelled, but she would not. He leapt before her, shielding her from the heat as the heat licked his skin cruelly, the fire in front of him dancing demonically. The outburst died, shrinking back into the form that it came from, leaving Tumnus' skin boiling.

As Jadis shrieked in a voice that would shatter the fire growing on her, she threw herself into the Great River and lost herself to its depths.

Not a soul witnessed it.

Tumnus fell backward onto the earth, letting everything die with him – letting the fire, the Empress, the earth, the River die with him...

All except Lucy.

This time, he'd given up his life for the right reason.


	30. Part 3: Dead

**Narnia:**

**When Children Cry**

**Part III**

**DISCLAIMER: Do I even need to write it? Not owning any of this, by the way.**

**Chapter thirty is up (Wow. Thirty chapters already?) and I hope you enjoy! Yes, I'm sorry I killed him, but it had to be done. Happy endings are unrealistic and altogether too fluffy. Also, I promise my chapters will get longer soon enough.**

**I'm also sorry I deleted _In Narnia _(if anyone actually read it), but I'm now co-authoring it with IridescentEpiphany. It is now titled _Rendering the Powerful_ if anyone is at all interested. (It's going to be interesting, seeing how this book plays out, as our writing styles are almost complete opposites.)**

Chapter Thirty

Dead

'_Tumnus!_'

That was the echoing scream that vibrated through the battlefield. It was the sound heard above the roaring of the Great River, the sound that carried over the bloodied battlefield now silent in Narnia's grave victory.

Edmund heard it at once, and his head jerked up attentively.

'Ed? You all right?' asked Peter.

'Didn't you hear that?' Edmund began to ready his horse.

'Hear what? Total and complete silence?'

'No. I thought...' The youngest king shook his head in confusion. 'I _know _I heard Lucy's voice.'

'Impossible. Lucy, on a battlefield? You must've just thought–'

'Peter, I know my own sister's voice when I hear it.'

The High King sighed. 'All right, let's suppose you did. What was she saying?'

'It sounded like... like she was crying.'

'Ah.'

'Peter, if you don't believe me, just say it. She was crying, and I heard her say "Tumnus".'

'Did you now? That's very peculiar. Considering she's known the chap for... oh, ten years?' Peter grinned. 'She says him name at least ten times a day.'

'I _know_ I heard her, and–' Edmund was cut short with the sound of a horn, carrying from far over the distant fields of battle.

Peter was at a loss for words. 'Edmund... Ed, that's _Lucy's_ horn.'

Edmund's leg went soaring over his horse's saddle. 'Well, don't just _stand _there, idiot, _ride!_' Savagely, he met heels to the horse's sides and galloped onward full speed.

With lightning speed, Peter saddled his mare and raced onward, taking no heed of the winds lashing over his face.

Something was going to happen, something important, something... something _frightening_. There was an inexplicable urgency pounding in every breath he took, every beat of the horse's swift hoofs. _Hurry, hurry, hurry, faster!_

As they came upon Lucy, Peter slowed his horse. There was she, coated in full armour – _That's my old armour_ – weeping by the bank of the Great River, bent over a still corpse.

'Lucy, what are you doing here?' cried Peter, but she would not answer.

'_Help him!_' she screamed, voice screechy and full of tears. 'Can't you see he's hurt? Help him!'

Peter's thoughts rambled mindlessly: _Why is she so worked up over one dead soldier? There are hundreds on this field, why just the one? If she wasn't prepared for the grief of battle, she shouldn't have ridden in. Where's her cordial? She can't have gone into battle without it. Shame on her for going into battle; she could've gotten killed! Who's that soldier she's so sore over?_

'My God,' said Edmund, observing the cadaver. 'It's Tumnus.'

'_Help him! He's dying!_' she shrieked.

'Tumnus?... Dead?' whispered Peter. Not Tumnus, surely not he...

'_He isn't dead!_' she wept, though she knew it was true.

'Lucy, we can't help him now...'

'_Don't say that! He didn't die!_'

'Lucy – nothing can be done,' Edmund said, holding back his own tears. He bent down to his sister. 'We can't help him.' Lucy continued bawling, wringing her hands over Tumnus' limp fingers. Edmund wrapped his arm around her shoulder, saying it again. 'He's gone.'

Lucy threw herself onto her brother, sobbing beyond any aid. 'I know!' she wailed, then softer: 'I know.'


	31. Part 3: A Promise Remembered

**Narnia:**

**When Children Cry**

**Part III**

**DISCLAIMER: Do I own it? WAhahahahaaaaaaAAAwuaaAAAAAAAAAMUAHAHAhahahaHAHEEEEEEEEEEEAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA – no.**

**Aww! LucyTumnus good stuff in this chapter (kind of. I guess... maybe?). I dunno. Not very good at detecting fluff when I see it (or write it?). No! I've decided; not fluff, but very sweet and very sad. But YAY! my long chappies are back!**

**I'm sorry I had to kill Tumnus. I probably deserve all the flames I got. More than you know... because, as you'll find out if you keep reading (and if you're a good person and never read these kinky author's notes), I didn't actually kill him.**

**Great. Now I feel all crummy inside and the warm fuzzy feeling of Fanfic writing isn't in me anymore. I'm sorry for doing that to you, and I probably lost all of my readers, but it's my book and I control the plot.**

**But I _shall_ make up for it! (Don't you love that word? It's such a cool word. Just say it: _shall_. It's definitely going with all my other favourite words, like _yeast_ and _mimic_ and _'tis _and all the words in _Jabberwocky _by Lewis Carrol, and _orangutans_ and _breakfast cereals_ and _shrubbery _and _Ni!_ and _ecky-ecky-ecky-eckshoPANG!shopowlowlooor... _is that how you spell it? I don't really know... I could go check, but I'm too lazy...)**

**OKAY! Enough Monty Python, you came for Narnia, and I give it you thus:**

Chapter Thirty-One

A Promise Remembered

This couldn't be happening. Peter stumbled backward, shaking head in disbelief. Not Tumnus. The very Tumnus that had been his friend, Lucy's friend, the Tumnus that had crowned him, the Tumnus that had, in a way, led them to Narnia. _Gone._

Peter dared step forward and look upon his sallow, limp face. Yes. Tumnus. But...

'He's not dead.'

'Peter, he is, he is,' moaned Lucy. 'He is!'

'No, Lucy, he really isn't dead!' Peter skidded onto the grass, kneeling by the nearly-dead faun. 'He's breathing, look!' Lucy lifted her head and looked on his cool face.

'Tumnus?' she whispered.

'He needs aid immediately!' said Peter. 'Lucy, where's your cordial?'

A blank look came over her face. 'I don't– It's not here, is it?'

'Damn you, Lucy, for forgetting the cordial!' cursed Edmund, then brought out his own horn and blowed: two short notes and a long note. Almost at once, two Narnian generals – one Red Dwarf, one centaur – galloped forward on horses.

'Your Highness,' said the first, the centaur, in a hurried voice. 'pardon me, but I could've sworn I heard the Queen Lu–' He trailed off at the sight of her in full mail. 'Queen Lucy!' he gasped, and what he was about to say next was lost.

'Brallin, I need you to bring a stretcher immediately,' said Edmund. Brallin stood and gaped. 'Now! Make haste, make haste!' Without a word, Brallin turned his body in the opposite direction and galloped off.

'Lucy, I won't–' began Peter, but didn't say anything more. Lucy had removed her gauntlets and, presently, was prying off Tumnus' gorget (which is the piece of armour that protects the throat), and pounding desperately at the breastplate.

She looked incredulously at them both. 'He needs to breathe! Help me get this off!' Again, she attacked the armour, wrenching off a shoulder piece.

Peter and Edmund both exchanged a look, then joined in the assail of armour. In the brief time it took to remove him of it, Brallin had returned with a small company of dryads carrying a sheet folded over two long poles. They knelt and pulled off his mail, whispering to each other.

'He needs medicine badly; can you not see the wound on his scalp?'

'Oh, feel his forehead, he's burning.'

Lucy screeched, 'Can he be healed?' She was now clutching his hand tightly, seeming as though she'd never release it.

One dryad shook her head. 'I don't know, Highness, but I wouldn't count on it. Unless you have your cordial...?'

Lucy shook her head.

'Help me get him on,' said one dryad to the other, lifting Tumnus onto the makeshift stretcher.

Lucy still never let go of his hand.

'Highness, I think it best if you wouldn't watch...' said Brallin, holding her back at the shoulder. 'This medical business could get a little messy, and you–' Lucy shoved his hand off her and followed the stretcher, ever gripping his limp hand.

'Queen Lucy,' said one dryad, looking at her sympathetically. 'I know how you must feel... He was, after all, your friend–'

'He _is_ my friend.' Voice of cold stone.

'Of course, madam, but it may take a while to heal him. Most of our tonics and healing potions are back at the Cair–'

'Brallin!' yelled Lucy, and the centaur came galloping up. 'Send a messenger back to the castle: they are to bring my personal litter to the battlegrounds.' Brallin frowned but relayed the message to a squirrel, who immediately went scampering East.

'If you could just stand back, Majesty, while we dress his wounds,' suggested one dryad, gently pushing her away from his still body.

'I'll do no such thing,' snapped Lucy, and instead aided the process by placing cool water-cloths on his injuries. The litter arrived soon enough to carry him to the palace, and she would have gone on that with him, too, but the dryads insisted that he be left some air.

So she rode, intensely watching him from below (though she could not see him directly). Each step, she wildly sent her thoughts to him: _Hold on. Hold on, just stay here. Don't leave me, not now. Not ever._

Upon arrival at the castle, Queen Susan came all of a flutter out the front doors, crying, 'Oh, Peter, we've victory! Where to begin? Edmund, Lucy's gone missing! No one can seem to... Isn't that her litter? Where is she, then? Oh, Lucy! But... You're in armour! Then who's that in your litter?'

Lucy did not so much as make eye contact with her sister, avidly waiting for him to be drawn from the litter. As he was, Susan's eyes widened, but no attention was to her now. Through the dank castle halls, Lucy never left his side, never ceased her hold upon his hand. He was taken to the nearest empty bedroom and laid on the mattress. At once, flocks of servants entered, carrying flagons of tonic and potion for the faun's healing. With cautious haste, his wounds were dressed and bound, and a special liquid was rubbed onto his mysterious burns which no one knew the source of.

No one, that is, save Lucy.

And she never left him, not through the healing or the binding, not for an instant. Even when all the attendants had left, she stayed further, praying silently. _Don't leave me._ It wasn't until night had fallen that a lady-in-waiting entered the room quietly, whispering, 'My Lady, shouldn't you be fitted into a something a bit more suitable than armour?'

With much argument, she finally agreed to change into a nightdress and be escorted to bed. The night became restless as she tossed and turned, making a great knot of her sheets – rather an unqueenly thing to do. At last, when she could no longer be chained, Lucy arose from her bed and lit a solitary candle with anxious fingers.

One toe pressed against the cold stone floor, then the rest of her the foot followed. Like this, she crept through the passageways of Cair Paravel down to the smallest bedroom on the ground floor, slipped noiselessly into the lonely bedroom where he lay, barely living.

She knelt beside the bed, looking at his bandaged face void of the laughter that was once there. Timidly, Lucy lifted a frail hand to touch his face. It was warm... In that one hour when she'd left him for her own sleep, she'd only longed to do this one deed, feel his living flesh with hers.

'Tumnus?' she whispered. 'Please. If you can hear me, listen: _don't leave me_. Do you remember, as we were heading out for battle, what you promised?

'You promised you'd never let go. Tumnus, your grip is slipping.' Her voice faltered on that last word, tears spilling out her fogged, dying eyes.

'I can't – I can't live without you.' She let her face fall heavily into her hands. 'Don't let go. Never let go. Can't you see it? If you... if you die now, I die with you. Oh, I'll live to walk and speak, but I'll never be able to _live_. Tumnus, if you ever cared, if any of our friendship ever meant anything at all, please don't let go.'

Lucy stood slowly, very gently, laid in the bed next to him. She nestled herself into his shoulder, grasped his arm, let the tears roll down her face onto the pillow.

_You promised._

And then, to seal his promise, she lifted a small something from the sleeve of her nightgown and pressed it into his hand. Something small, fabric, and white.

_You promised._


	32. Part 3: Belonging

**Narnia:**

**When Children Cry**

**Part III**

**DISCLAIMER: I'm getting so tired of this, I think I'll just give in and say it simply: I do not own it. There, C.S. Lewis, I've said it.**

**Okay, okay, I deserve all my readers ignoring me. I'm sorry I almost killed him, but I write, not to make the readers happy, but to make the writer happy. This is my story and I like it the way it is. If you don't like it, don't read it (although it would make me very happy if you kept reading anyway).**

**Smile, everybody, because I love you all and I'm feeling very optimistic on this sunny day... maybe I will have a happy ending...**

**Nah.**

Chapter Thirty-Two

Belonging

Cair Paravel was buzzing in the morning: Queen Lucy was missing! Where, oh where had she gotten to? It seemed as though she'd slipped away in the night without a trace, for she hadn't been in her chambers the next morning. And yesterday! did you hear about yesterday? She went into battle dressed as a man! But where is she now?

As Edmund heard this uproar, he shook his head and smiled, walked out of his room. Upon exiting, he bumped into a frightfully anxious Corin.

'Edmund? By the Lion's Mane, where is she? Do you know? I've been looking–'

'Hush, Corin. Yes, I know.'

Corin's eyes were large. 'How? Where?'

'I think you might stay–'

'I'm coming with you, Ed.' He shivered in his gallantly decorated dressing-gown. 'But she can't have gotten too far with this weather.'

'She's still in the castle, Corin. If you're coming, you'd best hasten.' Corin frowned, nodded, and tightened the rope round his waist as they took flight.

'Where are we going?' whispered Corin, after some bit of winding through the maze of corridors..

'In here,' Edmund whispered back, and carefully turned the cold, brisk knob to a small door.

There she was, her face troubled but pearly as a porcelain doll's. She lay by a faun whom Corin had seen before, but had never bothered to learn his name. Lucy, his betrothed, in the bed of a faun! And yet... And yet it did not seem as strange as it would normally be. There was something so _right_ about the scene...

But it had to be ended.

Edmund gently shook Lucy, whispering, 'Lu? Have you been here all night?'

Corin frowned and almost yelled: 'Lucy, you've disappeared in the night, and here I find you sharing a bed with a _faun_, of all persons! Do you not know the meaning of reputation, of shame?'

Lucy winced at his voice, but did not move from her spot on the bed.

'Corin,' whispered Edmund. 'the faun is Tumnus, a dear friend of hers, and he's been found nearly dead on the battlefield. You can see she's a little upset. If you could please be a little more quiet, as he's still recovering...'

'And another thing, Lucy,' Corin hissed, paying no mind to Edmund's advisory and sounding more of a man than child that he was. 'You went into _battle _dressed as a _man?_ Lucy, whatever possessed you to do such a thing? War is for men, not women!'

'Corin,' said Lucy for the first time that morning. It was such a different voice than anyone had last heard her use – melancholy and enigmatic, so musical, and yet so mournful that Edmund looked up at her, unbelieving. The grey, glassy winter light shone through a window bearing the first snow – she was silhouetted by it, making her seem of pale, crystal blue fog. She stood slowly, pressing her white, translucent feet streaked with sapphire veins against the stone floor with steps so sure and light that she could have easily been made of water as well. 'Corin, did you think you could keep me in the castle on the eve of Narnia's greatest battle?'

Corin, still trying to adjust to her new shift of demeanor, wriggled uncomfortably under her intense gaze. 'Well... yes...'

'Then you do not know me,' she said in a grave voice like a glass flute.

'Lucy,' said Edmund immediately, 'don't you think you might leave the nurses to attend Tumnus?'

'They cannot help him,' said Lucy coldly. 'Nor can I. He is beyond aiding.'

'Dead?' whispered Edmund.

'No,' said Lucy. 'He lives.'

'Lucy, you should leave,' said Corin.

She stood, very regal and powerful, but also appearing the saddest thing Edmund had ever seen. No, not regal, really... but untouchable.

'If you wish it,' she said, 'I shall leave.' She looked no one in the eye, but commanded all their respect as she stepped forward and out of the room, hair and gown flowing behind. Edmund noticed the way she walked... toe first, then heel, but it was such a solitary, fluid motion that she seemed to be floating, or carried upon a cloud, or even flying.

Under Prince Corin's command, Queen Lucy was to be kept away from the faun's current room. It was as a death sentence. In the castle of Cair Paravel, she stood alone – walking through the halls like a ghost. Each breath was like clockwork, every movement condemned, controlled. She said nothing, ate nothing, and walked as though she were dead. No eye of hers was raised to meet another's concerned gaze; not once had she spoke or acknowledged anyone's presence. She seemed alone, trapped in her own skin, her own soul. This life lived for her was masked in peace: it was killing her. One would most certainly find it eerie to be in the same room, for she had an unsettling, disquieting presence. She faded into the walls, into the December snow till nothing was left in her.

As she gradually deteriorated in the next few days under Peter's watchful eyes, he suddenly leapt up, not being able to stand it. Being a King and outranking Corin, he tried immediately to cancel the command, wondering why he hadn't before.

Yet Lucy held him back, saying in her new voice, 'He is my betrothed. It is as he wishes.'

'Lucy, you can't really let him do this to you! He's only a boy!'

'Yes,' she whispered. 'and I am only a woman.'

And then Peter saw it. He saw everything: every defiance she'd stood for, each harshness toward those who underestimated her, all because she was a woman. Her last statement, that was not her own. It was her way of sneering but accepting society, it was a quote taken from every glare at her boyish behaviour, every restraint from her fighting.

'Lucy,' he said finally. 'I understand now.'

She smiled, but he could only see sadness in it. 'To see what is right,' Lucy said, 'and not to do it is cowardice.'

And he knew what was right.


	33. Part 3: What Was Learned

**Narnia:**

**When Children Cry**

**Part III**

**DISCLAIMER: I give up. No, you're right, don't own Narnia.**

**Wow! Thank you all for your lovely reviews; I really didn't expect to be getting any. You've all given me hope as a writer. I LOVE YOU ALL!**

**For avalon88 and in case anyone else is wondering: No, this is not supposed to be parallel to LOTR. (Tell me, however did you come up with that? I can't see anything like it... except the battle, maybe...) I'd probably not be too good at that, this is pure Narnia (plus a little bit of a dream I had about Lucy and Tumnus that inspired me to write this... Is it normal to have dreams about your fanfics? Anyway, that dream will be up in a chapter soon enough.)**

**I don't especially like the way I depict Aslan in this chapter, I'm sorry. I could've done so much better, but I'm a lazy ass. I don't deserve Aslan... or Tumnus... oh, this is so depressing. This chappie's not quite as Christian-like as I wanted it to be... oh, well. Here it is:**

Chapter Thirty-Three

What Was Learned

What was it? It was like summer, but not quite. Like happiness, but better. Oh, how perfect: golden and comforting, unlike anything before. Such a feeling!

Tumnus opened his eyes, wanting to know what the beautiful sensation was. At the sight, he gasped and tried to sit up straighter, but was met with a pain in his side, so he relented his attempts.

'Sir,' he gasped. 'What are you... how can... where am I? I can't be... not _dead_.' The Lion did not answer. 'Well... meaning no disrespect, Aslan sir, but... Why are you here?' Tumnus stammered.

'I have come to breathe on you, Tumnus, which I have. You needed to be wakened, and little else could have done that.'

'What...' Tumnus moaned at the dizziness shrouding his head, and laid his head down on the pillow again. 'What happened?'

''Tis a long story,' rumbled Aslan. 'How far back can you recall?'

Tumnus twisted his face with pondering. '...Well, I remember fighting the minotaur... no, then there was Lucy, and something was going to happen...'

'Something _did_ happen, Tumnus, and it was something great.'

'She was going to be killed!' said Tumnus, gasping as the realisation came.

Aslan gave what might have been a Lion's smile. 'Yes, Tumnus, and by love, she was not. You should know the whole story. Do you remember the armoured woman?'

'Yes!' said Tumnus. 'She was... Aslan, I saw her eyes! ...But she _can't _have been... Jadis?'

'She was, Tumnus, an evil resurrected. It was she who led the army under the title "The Winged Empress". It was her head general, the Black Dwarf Reslev, who sabotaged your friendship with the Queen Lucy.'

Tumnus would have said something very nasty indeed had it not been Aslan before him. He recovered, asking, 'Please, sir, what happened? I remember fire, the heat...'

'Yes, there was that. Tumnus, whether you recall it or not, you were given a choice to make. Either you chose, it was a sacrifice to yourself and to Narnia: you were to let the Queen Lucy live, or give Jadis the cordial.'

'I chose Lucy,' whispered Tumnus. 'I remember that.'

'It was a difficult decision, Tumnus, one not made easily. You were torn between love and the defence from hatred; you chose love, and for that, you should not be ashamed.'

'Then what happened?'

'Patience, faun. Jadis drank the cordial, as you knew she would. But it wasn't something for her to touch.

'Each wound not only leaves a cut on the skin, but it also leaves a scar in the heart. The cordial treats both wounds. By this, Jadis was met with, not only the strength of skin, but was struck with healing of the heart. Tumnus, you saved Lucy because you love her, which made the impact of the cordial even more great. Jadis, with all the hatred and selfishness in her heart, could not bear the love that met her lips with the cordial.

'The cordial was made from juices of the fireflowers that grow upon the mountains of the sun, a concoction that, in small quantities, does not harm, but heals the flesh. She had no injury about her, making the potency all the more dangerous. That was the purpose for the fire, Tumnus. Yet fire such as this inflicts no wound, only pain. To save Lucy, you endangered yourself to the flame. The fire you felt was enough to take away your consciousness, but you'll see no burn on your skin.

'Tumnus, it wasn't the fire that killed her. She burned, oh yes, she burned greatly, but she was killed by love.' A significant silence passed before Aslan said more: 'Those who drink the cordial out of hatred are met with the fire that doesn't kill. The love kills, but it is compensated for after death. Their burning never ends.'

'Aslan, please, what do you mean by that?'

The Lion did not answer, but instead picked up something on the floor in his mouth and placed it on Tumnus' bed. Tumnus stared at it incredulously, then at Aslan.

'I shall breathe on you again, Tumnus, and you will forget what happened to the cordial. All memory about the event with the Empress shall be forgotten, both by you and the Queen.' Tumnus frowned and was about to say more, but was met with the feeling again: a perfect, beautiful feeling that filled him with drowsy joy.

As his eyes closed, Aslan said, 'No one ever need know.' With that breath, Tumnus slept quietly for months, not stirring, not waking, not moving for ages. Weeks passed, months, and still he slept.

No one knew afterwards, not even Tumnus, that the Lion had come.


	34. Part 3: A Song For Remembering

**Narnia:**

**When Children Cry**

**Part III**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own it, la-lala lalalalala...**

**I love this chapter. Hehee. It's the end of Part III, but it's not the end of the book, so keep reading, please, because it's almost finished and I need to add in my TumnusLucy romance!**

**I got rid of the song I originally put in here, because it's my own language, so someone can steal it. Plus, publishers consider online publishing (such as Fanfic) to be actual publishing, so I won't be able to put my language into my book. Anyhow, enjoy this next chappie:**

Chapter Thirty-Four

A Song for Remembering

A tear rolled down Lucy's cheek, dripping off her delicate face and shattering on the cold marble railing. She remembered a song she'd once heard; the song must've been lost somewhere in her mind, for it was a song Tumnus used to sing long ago. He wouldn't return now, there was no way life would ever breathe in him again. Why, then, did the song echo now? She thought that the song was coming from beyond the balcony where she stood... but she'd imagined many things that weren't there, lately.

She grasped tightly the thing in her hands – it was the one thing she'd paid any attention to in months. With a sad smile, she buried her empty face into the warm folds of the red muffler, taking in a deep breath. The scarf still smelt of him. If she concentrated enough, she could almost hear his laugh again...

'Lucy,' said a voice by the door.

Lucy whipped her head around and sighed. 'Edmund.'

'I wonder... Lucy, could I speak with you?'

'Say what you will, and I cannot stop you.' When Lucy spoke at all, it was all in riddles and proverb.

Edmund took in a deep breath. 'Lucy, I've been speaking with Peter and with some of the generals. We think... Well, I've seen you in armour, and you apparently defeated many enemies out there on the battlefield. Anyone can see you're a skilled warrior in battle and in the ring.' He silenced, waiting for her to say something, _anything_, but she didn't. He inhaled another deep breath.

'We want to give you your title now.'

She said nothing.

'Lucy, this is your _title_,' said Edmund disbelievingly. 'This is what you've been waiting for year after year, and you're finally getting it! Maybe you don't understand.' He was playing now. 'I, the Just, and Peter the Magnificent, and Susan the Gentle. Lucy, you'll be among us now. We're giving you your title.'

'I heard your words the first time spoken,' Lucy intoned. 'You needn't repeat yourself.'

Edmund could still not understand. 'Lucy, what is it?'

'I've died, Edmund.'

The sad thing was that he knew it to be true.

'Lucy, I'm worried about you,' Edmund said, after a significant pause. 'We all are. What happened to you?'

'It's the price everyone pays for friendship; all love has losses. This is my mark – what else do I have?'

'Lucy, perhaps you should talk with Corin – or the councillors – _anyone!_'

They were both silent for a while, pensive. A while later, Lucy whispered to herself: 'Where have you gone?'

_Tumnus, where have you gone?_

'I will come with you, Edmund, to accept this title you wish to bestow upon me,' she said stiffly. 'Take me where you will.'

Edmund frowned, as he usually did to her new demeanor, but stood and lead her out of her bed-chamber and out into the hall, with Lucy still clutching the old scarf in her pale, weak hands. It had been so long since she'd emerged from her room that she winced at the brightness of May shining in through the windows. He'd slept for five months...

The battle was won, their kidnapped birds had returned from the Winged Empresses' army, and they'd won the small western kingdom of Beruna. Yet in the five months, she'd been forbidden to see him by her fiancé, Corin. He was only a boy of thirteen years and far younger than her, but he had power over her through marriage engagement. He'd used it frequently. The only positive thing about Corin lately was that he'd postponed the wedding until she was herself again.

They trod down the stairs, Lucy following mechanically. At the ground level, Peter appeared out of a doorway. 'Edmund, might I speak with you?' he asked, and Edmund followed him. Lucy knew her place and didn't trail them.

She stood alone in the marble hall, squinting at the sunlight through the windows. Oh, it had been so long since she'd been outside... What was stopping her now?

With timid, barefoot steps, she placed one foot on the outdoor stair. She always walked in that peculiar manner now: toe first, then heel. Down the cool steps and into brightness... ah, it felt marvellous. She'd forgotten what it felt like to have the sun on her face, to have the smell of spring melting sweet all round her.

As she walked into the forest, she heard the song in her mind again. But... no, that couldn't be right. That translated into 'Where have you gone, my Queen, my friend?' Those weren't the proper words at all. Lucy sighed and leaned against a tree, hugging the red scarf close to her chest.

And here, she heard the words again:_ You'll find me there._

There, again! It was far away in the back of her mind, whispering words that were never written in the song: _I wait for you still._ The voice began singing again, sending its voice in ripples through Lucy's mind. The voice was a rich, earthy voice, like heather and night dances... she knew that voice...

'I've always waited for you,' said the voice from behind her.

Lucy leapt up from the tree, staring at the materialised voice before her. At once, she cast herself onto him, throwing her arms around his neck and weeping heavily into his shoulder. _This _was the console she needed; to feel his bare skin against hers, to feel their arms wrapped around each other, to know that and equal amount of need was pouring out from both of them. She needed _him_.

'Lucy,' he said faintly into her ear, caught in the wild delirium of the reunion. 'Lucy, Lucy, _Lucy_.' He ran his hands frantically over her head and neck, as though to confirm her solid existence, that this wasn't a mere dream...

'I knew you wouldn't leave me,' she wept, pressing her face into his neck. 'I hoped you wouldn't.' Lucy held him more closely than she ever had before.

He cupped her chin, lifting her head so that their foreheads touched. At the sight of her wet eyes, he became suddenly aware of his own. In a daze, he reached with ginger fingertips to touch her tears gently. He wished he could save the tears... each became more precious than the last...

From his hand, he brought out a small, white secret and pressed the fabric between their palms, and their fingers folded together. 'Of course I'd never leave,' he whispered, and now pressed his cheek to hers. 'I promised.'

E N D O F P A R T T H R E E


	35. Part 3: Valiance

**Narnia:**

**When Children Cry**

**Part IV**

**DISCLAIMER: Don't own Narnia or Tumnus or Lucy... the list goes on.**

**YAY! After a long, long break (sorry for that, readers, I went to summer camp), I have finally begun Part Four and I love it. There was a bit of a time jump from the last chapter, about a week or two. And the thing with Lucy and Corin... well, I'll leave you all to guess.**

**Enjoy this new chapter, if you will:**

Chapter Thirty-Five

Valiance

Tumnus nervously patted the velvet of his blue ceremonial scarf, then pulled an unruly hair back into place. Then he glanced at himself in the mirror again, realised the scarf was too orderly, and rumpled it terrifically before throwing it over his shoulder again. No, that was too messy-looking; he needed to look exactly perfect. This was, after all, the bestowment of Lucy's title.

'Tumnus, old goat, if you pay that much attention to the scarf, you're never going to get to the ceremony.'

Tumnus frowned and whirled around, then released a breath. 'Baviar,' he sighed upon sight of the fox.

'I know my name; you needn't say it,' he said, revealing a cunning smile full of sharp teeth. 'And you'd best hurry up the preparations, or you'll miss the event itself.'

'Right. Well, I ... This is an important day for her. I should look respectful.'

'You seem to be aiming for more than "respectful", old goat.' Baviar folded one paw on top of the other amusedly.' "Admirable", maybe, or "charming". I would warrant you're even trying for "handsome", if I didn't know you better.'

'Baviar, whatever do you mean by that?' asked Tumnus, frowning, but Baviar just blinked and flicked his tail habitually. Knowing how frustrating the fox could be at times, Tumnus reasoned that there wasn't any use in imploring him, thus continuing to straighten his scarf to a perfect state of 'respectfulness'.

❦

Lucy paced around her room, nervously twisting her hair and wringing her hands in a repetitive motion. She was far too tense, too tense to even finish dressing. It wasn't the title that bothered her – she could easily go through the ceremony without being at all uncomfortable, even at the exact moment she would receive her title. But there was something else, like the heaviness building under a light cloud until it becomes an ominous mass of storm. There was something she had to do. But suppose she was too late?

It had taken quite some time for her to prepare for the ceremony, she knew. Soon, someone would enter and ask her if she was all right. She wasn't, of course, but she dearly hoped that one person would be Corin. They were, after all, engaged to be married, and this couldn't wait.

She had to do it.

Soon enough, there was a slight squeak of hinges at the door. 'Lucy?' asked Corin, timidly entering her bedchamber. Before he could say another word, Lucy appeared in a shining blue gown, not even fully buttoned, and pulled him into the darkest corner of the room.

❦

As Tumnus stood in the audience, he watched as Lucy was escorted into the room by Corin, their arms interlinked. Somehow, though they were engaged, the scene did not appear to be _right_. But that made no sense; he was certainly taller than she, despite the fact he was eight years younger. His face was pleasant enough and very princely... but it was as though something was misplaced between them.

Besides that, the two looked as though they shared a secret. A terrible secret, one burdened on them shamefully. And yet they must have delighted in it, for there was a happiness and freedom in their eyes, and... mischief?

An unwelcome thought crossed his mind. _Certainly not... no..._ But he daren't say anything.

No, that couldn't be... could it?

The entire event flew by in a blur, for Tumnus paid little attention to it. Thoughts flew about wildly in his mind, colliding with each other and forming more. He was, however, raptly attentive at the very peak, the very end of the ceremony, where Peter lifted a large shield imprinted with a golden gryffin.

'Queen Lucy,' said Peter loudly, grandly, 'the Valiant!'

The room arose with uproar and cheering, many stomping their feet and shouting with wordless approval. Lucy, standing at the head of the crowd, smiled down at the shield and laid a hand on her hip. Tumnus realised with a jolt to his stomach that it was the sword he'd given her on the eve of battle, back in winter. Oh, how they both had grown since. Lucy, now gleaming in all her splendour, was – and there was simply no other word for it – _beautiful_.

For a moment, their eyes met among the sea of Narnians. Though Tumnus didn't know it, she looked happier in those few seconds than she'd looked all day.

The feast following was certainly fantastic, for all of Narnia had come to witness Lucy receiving her title. There was dancing, _oh!_ such dancing and music will never been seen or heard by human ears again. And while everyone was chattering in a good-natured manner, Lucy crept up to Tumnus.

'Do you want to go somewhere else?' she whispered. 'I'm not too fond of crowds like this.' Tumnus, of course, knew exactly how she felt, and the two adjourned out-of-doors onto the wide, sandy stretch of sea-banks across the Eastern Sea.

Lucy smiled and tossed the circlet onto the soft bed of sand. 'Bother that,' she murmured, and released her hair from its tight coil in the back of her head. She also kicked her shoes onto the ground and tucked the long, billowing blue hem of her dress into the belt round her waist, so that it fell pleasantly just below her knees. Tumnus was shocked that a lady of the court (and a queen, no less!) would be so informal after a royal event. Certainly, it was quite improper. But he said nothing that would pertain to it.

They walked for a while, Lucy sometimes splashing into the low tide to that the water would lap up to her ankles. Tumnus wished, as he had many times before, that he were human. How she enjoyed those feet! His hoofs had no feeling, being quite solid, and yet Lucy would squish the wet sand between her toes and then watch the grains drift away into the tide.

For a while they didn't say a word, but the silence was not uncomfortable. Lucy spoke after a bit. 'You know, this is the first time I've gotten to relax in a long while, what with the preparations for the dubbing and...' Lucy gulped. 'And the wedding.'

There was a pause in the conversation. 'How are things between you and Corin?' Then he again realised that it wasn't his station to ask such a question.

Before he could apologise, Lucy said, 'Well, thanks.' There was another pause before she spoke again. 'You know, after all the time we've been engaged, he never kissed me?'

Tumnus' eyebrows shot up beneath his hair. He hadn't been expecting such a statement. For a moment, he wondered if it meant that Corin had _never_ kissed her, or that he'd never kissed her until recently. A hoard of wild thoughts ran shamelessly through his mind, and he wanted – _needed_ – to ask her a thousand questions.

But all that escaped his mouth was, 'Really.'

'Yes,' said Lucy firmly. 'I just thought–' she began, but saw the reserve expression on Tumnus' face and did not continue. 'Why, Mr Tumnus, I apologise. I do believe I've made you quite uncomfortable. I'm sorry, I don't suppose you care much for the matter.'

'I daresay,' Mr Tumnus began wryly, 'that you'd be rather more excited than I am. You are, after all, the one of us getting married.'

Lucy looked down at her hands in some odd manner that Tumnus could not place. 'Mr Tumnus–'

'_Tumnus_, Lucy, I am only Tumnus to you.'


	36. Part 4: The Truth Won't Die Again

**Narnia:**

**When Children Cry**

**Part IV**

**DISCLAIMER: Ok, you know I don't own this.**

**This is the chapter you've all been waiting for. Gosh, I didn't even think I'd get this far. I usually never end my books, and this one... I think I'm going all the way. LucyTumnus romance is actually beginning! If you approve, show me by dropping a review... You don't have to, it's just a request, and this chapter made me so happy. Now I can finally start toying with their emotions... muahahaha...**

**It took me thirty-five chapters,and I've done it. But the story isn't ending here. Oh, no, this is just the beginning...**

Chapter Thirty-Six

The Truth Won't Die Again

Lucy smiled, settling herself down into Mr. Tumnus' chair; the chair specially reserved for friends. She needed to tell him what happened with Corin before her title ceremony, and she especially needed to ask him...

Taking a sip of chamomile, she closely observed him. Things were finally beginning to resolve comfortably after the defeat of the Winged Army, and many Narnian soldiers had suffered disfiguring badges of bravery. For all his efforts in battle, Tumnus had altered his pleasant appearance little. At a glance, one would notice the two streaks of silver on either side of his head; a result, no doubt, from the trauma of battle, though she could remember little of the experience. She did recall with a singing clarity being clutched scathingly by the hair, eyes fixated on Tumnus, an urgency in the moment. Tumnus could apparently not remember anything more.

The only other mark of battle was a little, thin scar that intertwined the ivory brand with the amber of his right eyebrow. Smiling approvingly at it, Lucy made a mental note that it made him, on the whole, a rather dashing man.

_Faun,_ she thought hard, boring the word into her mind. _He's a faun_, _he's a faun, not a man—_

But the words helped her not, and she then noticed a mark that she felt sure no one else had... perhaps they could not. There was a glint in his eye, a sprightly shine that spangled adventure and mischief.

'I am glad,' said Tumnus with more openness and lively spirit than he'd shown in a long time, 'that you were able to stop by this afternoon. Tea is always just as calming as it was meant to be, but is ever so much more gratifying with company.'

'Couldn't have put it better myself,' Lucy agreed.

'Butter cookie?' he asked, holding out a platter. Lucy smiled, nodded, and plucked a fat crumpet from the silver platter. 'And you do make such excellent company.'

'Thank you.' Things were going in an unusually cheery manner today, and anyone could see behind her own mask. Tumnus, however, was rather as endearing as ever, seeming quite oblivious to the fact that things were going altogether too perfectly.

Letting the riant expression fall from her face, Lucy set down her cup of tea solemnly with the savory butter cookie beside it. 'Tumnus, I must ask you something,' she intoned seriously.

Tumnus looked up, then frowned incredulously at her face. 'Lucy, whatever is the matter?'

'Well, it's just...' Lucy paused, then continued. 'Well, we – that is to say, my sister and brothers and I – are travelling to Archenland quite soon.'

Tumnus' eyes grew dullcast as he glanced down. 'I know.'

'I just... well, I... I hoped you might want to come with us. With me.'

Still staring acutely at the green carpet, his lips curved up in a wry smile. 'I don't think Corin will be too excited at the thought of _me_ attending your wedding.'

Lucy swallowed and leaned forward to make her words better heard. 'Tumnus, I'm... I'm not marrying Corin.'

Tumnus' head shot upward, feeling a funny jolt in the pit of his stomach. His eyes widened as he mouthed wordlessly, looking so much like a beached fish that Lucy would have laughed under different circumstances. After all his efforts, all he could say was, 'No?'

Lucy shook her head.

'Why... Why not?'

She sighed. 'Tumnus, my intelligence equals nothing near yours, and you still cannot see it? There is too much of a difference between Corin and myself. He is far too... Oh, I don't know!' she exclaimed, frustrated. 'Maybe it's the fact that he's eight years younger, or that he's too arrogant and controlling, or... or...' Lucy broke off, shaking her head violently. 'I don't love him; we're just too different! For my country, for _Narnia_, I would marry without love. But I can't stand him.' Her temper slowed, Lucy sank backwards into her chair. 'He is a good enough friend, that much is true, but if I am to spend my life with one person and marry them and have children and live a happy life, I just can't do it with someone like him!' she finished.

❦

In her mind, she recalled having to tell Corin the truth. It was a most awkward situation, for she'd dragged him into a corner of her room without thinking that she wasn't fully clothed.

'Lucy!' Corin had gasped, shielding his eyes extravagantly. 'I ask that you button your dress, or at least _warn_ me next time you decide to attack me indecently, or –'

'Corin,' she'd said calmly, clutching his collar, 'I could say this in a million different ways, many of them longer yet all of them kinder, but that would take too long. I am already hoping it's not too late, but you must know: I can't marry you.'

Corin had ceased covering his eyes and looked at her directly in the face. His eyes glittered, and he'd said softly, 'Thank you.' He'd kissed her platonically on the forehead, then drew back laughing.

'What?' she'd said, a grin swelling on her face.

'Given the circumstances, that was probably not the best thing to do,' he chuckled. 'And, also given the circumstances, you really should button your dress.'

❦

Recalling the memory, Lucy sat forward again in her chair, looking intently at Tumnus' face. 'I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable, but you would've found out one way or another, and I wanted you to hear it from me.'

Tumnus smiled gently, taking her hand and pouring comfort into it. 'Is there anything I can do?' he whispered.

'Oh, Tumnus,' she sighed, and they both stood, Lucy wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders, 'you have done enough for me.'

They stood there for an age, breathing as one, unmoving, simply _being_. But it had to end, and end it did, soon enough.

'Look at me,' said Lucy, laughing shakily. 'I'm such a wreck. I'm terribly sorry, Tumnus.'

'That's quite all right,' he consoled, and squeezed her hand comfortingly.

'I should go,' she said, lifting her skirts slightly to walk. 'I'm due back at the Cair for supper.'

'Allow me to escort you,' Tumnus offered.

'Oh, no, that won't be necessary,' she smiled, and was content with permitting Tumnus to hold open the door for her as she left.

'I shall see you soon, I expect?' she said, stepping outside.

'I should hope so. Friends shouldn't be parted for too long.' He smiled again and watched her leave, the green hem of her dress skimming the earth behind her. With a sigh, he closed the door and leaned against it, resting his head on the wood grain. He remembered being so flustered at her news that he'd quite forgotten to answer her invitation to Archenland. She must think him rude now.

_She isn't getting married to Corin,_ chanted a voice in his mind.

Recalling the funny jolt in his stomach as Lucy had spoke to him, Tumnus was aware of a suspicion that had threatened to arise many times before.

_No_, he told it. _She is a Queen of Narnia, and I am... I'm just a faun! This can't happen again, I won't let it!_

But no matter what he told himself, he couldn't deny it any longer. The issue had come up too many times to be ignored, and now, it seemed as though Fate had confronted him in a duel, and he couldn't back down now.

He had to admit it to himself, after months – years, even.

The truth was dangerous, but the lies and agony were behind him and he couldn't go back, even if he tried.

_Aslan help me, I love her._


	37. Part 4: The Author's Note

Chapter Thirty-Seven Which Isn't Really a Chapter...

Maybe It's Chapter Thirty-Six and a Half?

Author's Note

DISCLAIMER NOW JUST TO GET IT OVER WITH: I own almost nothing – actually, I think it really might be nothing at all – mentioned in this chapter/author's note. Also I apologise for not updating the next chapter in so long, but you will see why in a moment.

Oh, dear, my readers. It seems that I've backed myself up into quite a tight corner. For one thing, this brings into the plot the journey to Archenland, then from Archenland to Tashbaan (_The Horse and His Boy_ crossover), the problem with mistaking Shasta/Cor for Corin, not to mention how Tumnus and Corin ever did become friends, and that is excluding Susan's problem with the Tashbaan Prince, the escape from Tashbaan and the battle allying Archenland, assuming that with all this going about I have any time to write romance into the story. (If you haven't read _The Horse and His Boy_, than it's apparently quite evident that you've no idea what's going on. That's all right then; my problem, not yours.)

I only had Lucy invite Tumnus to Archenland because it was written in the books, and I've been trying ever so hard to remain on the basic plot-line, excluding little or none at all. (How have I been doing with that, I wonder?) Certainly, it would make a much better story if I included all the details on the journey, but I haven't the stamina or enthusiasm to be quite so lengthy or thorough with my novel.

Now, I think that with my predicament, I'll just give you the extremely quick version (it isn't entirely thorough; I've excluded Peter's giant hunt):

Corin and Tumnus became friends, everyone's all happy and pleasant, then they all go to Archenland. The next bit I would only read if _The Horse and His Boy _is a piece of literature unseen by your eyes: (From Archenland, they visit Tashbaan, Susan has some serious problems with a Prince suitor, Corin gets lost, they mistake Corin's long-lost twin for Corin, find out their mistake, Corin's long-lost twin saves Archenland and takes the throne in time, everything's all hunky-dory in the end.) All the Narnians return home from Archenland, safe and sound, all with only the slightest bit of romance between Tumnus and Lucy and they both are certainly light on the matter.

There. You have it all down; now that my awful writer's block has nearly vanished, I may continue my next chapter with hopefully a little bit of _something_ exciting. You remember, I must also make Lucy realise her love for Tumnus.

Also I would very much like to thank Morgim for her truly honest review. I will admit that it did sting a little, but so do all critical statements, and it was very helpful. In my defence, however, the first two chapters were written about seven months ago, and my writing has (hopefully) developed beyond that point. The corner store and certain quotes (ex: '…impossible for this writer to verbalise') were all in the hopes of attempting to sound like C.S. Lewis. Now I have better honed my own skills and no longer have to rely on others. But I appreciate the honesty; that was the first negative review I can recall and I must say it was quite refreshing.

Oh, writing. Such a taxing and satisfying habit. Whatever would we do without it?


	38. Part 4: Something Wrong

**DISCLAIMER: Don't own Narnia, Lucy, Tumnus, Edmund, Peter, or Susan. Nada. Zero. Zip.**

**This is a bit of a long chapter; certainly longer than I've written in a long time. Perhaps it's to make up for all the time I was gone. (Sorry, but who knew summer vacation was so busy? A weeklong vacation and starring in _Alice in Wonderland_. Plus waiting for writer's block to wear off. Yeah. Really busy. Sorry, my readers!) But I hope this chapter makes for a good apology. It's kind of meaningless and slow-moving in the beginning, but it all ties together and is highly important at the end.**

**You know how, at the end of _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_, they stop at the lamp-post on the hunt for the White Stag, but no one can remember what it is? Well... this is highly relevant and pretty important, as plots go. Here goes...**

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Something Wrong

Lucy was crying.

She didn't do such things often, but it was so unfair, the world now. Why did it have to be so?

All of the Lucy and her siblings had gone on a picnic in the woods earlier that day, for the sole purpose of enjoying themselves. Being the rulers of Narnia, they'd nearly forgotten their ties as family and had a need to be together on a friendly basis with no politics involved. They found a spot and lay there atop the picnic blanket, lush grass pushing up between the threads and tickling their legs in a comforting, if slightly irritating way. Edmund and Peter had stepped over to the lake not too far off to dip in their toes. Susan stayed at the picnic spot to embroider a sample, glancing every now and then disaprovingly at Lucy, who was reading a book.

Oh, Susan liked books well enough. Useful things, they were, but Lucy spent so much time immersed in them that she often failed to remember that she was in the _real_ world.

Yet Lucy kept reading those books. In truth, Susan had hit the nail on the head as to why she read books. But there was something else that Susan didn't know about. Something that Lucy would revel in for ages, knowing Susan couldn't do anything about it.

Lucy wrote.

Ah, yes, she wrote, and that alone is a purpose beyond anything else she could imagine. They were novels and short pieces and little paragraphs about her thoughts, but she wrote. Sometimes she would meet with Tumnus and they would just sit about, writing. The thing was, above writing, Lucy thought. She thought things that no one ever thought about. Like how everyone thinks they're special, and likes to think of themselves that way. How, in some little way, they all thought they were better and more special than someone else just a bit. But no one wanted to hear about someone else they knew was special, or hear someone else brag about themselves, because the thought enters their mind that they're _not_ special, just a nobody with a dream.

That was why Lucy felt so awful when Edmund came back from the lake, shouting, 'You'll never guess what happened to me!' with Peter standing behind him, grinning.

'Edmund, whatever are you shouting about?' inquired Susan, setting down her sampler.

'Peter and I were walking back from the lake, when we saw a deer on the road. It was incredible. It wasn't a Talking Beast, but a dumb one, and I got close enough that it sniffed my hand! Just stuck out its nose and sniffed it!'

'It did, I saw it,' testified Peter, and grinned. 'Ah, the doe liked him enough, but that stag... Better stay away from it mate. Remember that noise it made at you?'

'You were sniffed by a doe? Why, Edmund, that's delightful!' cried Susan, leaping up.

Behind her book, Lucy scowled fretfully. She was easily jealous and knew it well, but hearing Edmund talk like that... It seemed as though an event that special would be relished in a private joy, not blurted out for the world to hear. Lucy felt angry at the thought, but didn't know why. It happened the same way with many things; some things are better when enjoyed quietly. One cannot witness a life-altering moment and brag about it, as though it were an oversized pig at an auction.

The thought made Lucy squirm inside. She felt so shameful, so unimportant and small when things like that happened. Like when Susan read a book Lucy dearly loved and shouted its wonderment to the world. That book was a private hideout for Lucy, a pleasant solace that seemed to be made just for her. And there was Susan, shouting clumsily how it amazed her.

At the thought, Lucy curled herself slightly together as to make herself take up as little space as possible. _Invaded,_ she thought. _I've been invaded._ It was the same feeling she got when someone read what she wrote. _It's so cold._

_So cold._

_They're all so big, and I... I'm just too small. Small and cold. I feel... I feel like there was a flood or a fire that ruined the castle, and everyone fled. But I'm trapped inside... And no one came to find me. Just me and death alone together. But I don't want to be alone. Not now._

She always wanted to be alone, to think.

_I feel – I am..._

_That's just it. I am._

❦

After eating the picnic lunch, they all strayed to their individual activities. Susan back to her sampler, Peter napping nonchalantly in the sun, Edmund sitting about and watching the movement of a toad – almost like a child again.

A child again.

Lucy walked away from them, towards the direction of the lake with a cold sandwich in her hand, and she began to think again. What made a child? Was it size or age or voice or maturity? For the soul is the same, no matter the age. But what is age? Numbers labeled on a person to give definition to who they are and how wise. That was silly. For she'd met or heard of plenty of humans who were her elder, but few the wiser. Why, then, did age matter?

_It is who they are that defines them, not the number._

Those silly numbers – they mattered so much in court affairs when the conversation spoke of her. She was too young for this, too old for that, just the right age for such-and-such... should it really matter what number was branded invisibly on her? Why, Tumnus was over a hundred years her senior, but that held no impact on their friendship...

Tumnus.

She'd had so many strange thoughts about him lately, few of them making any sense at all. What had happened? They were silly, they were outlandish, and she hadn't the slightest idea of what had gone wrong that made him so unusual in her memory now. She began feeling things that were alien to her when his name was mentioned.

All caught up in her thoughts, Lucy finally brought her eyes to where she stood and stopped in her tracks. There, in front of her no more than four metres away, was a deer. In all probability, it was the same deer that Edmund had foregathered.

'Wow! Lucy, see if it'll sniff you!'

Lucy jumped and turned slowly to the source of the voice. 'Edmund,' she sighed.

'And me,' said Peter, emerging beside.

'Try this,' said Edmund, and tore a bit of bread crust from his hands, tossing it at the doe. The deer stepped backwards a few paces.

Lucy, for an unusual reason, again grew angry. Peter and Edmund had their encounter with the deer; let her have a turn now!

'Ah!' whispered Edmund, 'it's going away!' He tossed another piece and made a clicking sound with his mouth. 'Here, boy. Heeeere, boy!'

'It's a girl,' whispered Lucy out of the corner of her mouth. Edmund ignored her and made more clicking noises, throwing one bread piece after another so that it looked like snow on the grass. After a few more moments, he gave up and walked away with Peter.

Lucy was alone with the deer.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she intently watched as the deer came up and ate the bread pieces timidly. Lucy smiled. The doe was smart. It took only tiny steps forward, but reached for the bread with its neck so as to get more food. By that, the doe ate steadily, but got no closer to the human than it had to.

Quietly, Lucy lifted her skirts and got closer. The deer tensed, stopping Lucy. She instead lowered herself to the ground and sat there, feet outward. She began to toss pieces of her sandwich softly toward the deer, who ate them patiently, but stepped back once she'd devoured the meal. Still, it got a little closer each time.

With a certain slowness, Lucy stood again and held out what was left of her sandwich. The deer sniffed at it for a bit before reaching its pink tongue from its mouth and consuming the food. Lucy brought out her other hand and petted the doe softly on the bridge of its nose before the deer swiftly stepped back and skittered off.

Lucy sat again in the dirt, and the doe turned back to her. In a soft voice like smoke, Lucy asked, 'Where is the stag?'

The doe was silent.

Lucy held out the palms of her hands. 'I have no more food, but I offer myself as a friend.' At this point, she lay down on her stomach. 'I am no more or less than you. When our bodies wear down, we are equal in soul. Look.'

The deer stared into her eyes deeply. A breeze ruffled the folds of Lucy's skirt, and the deer jerked its head upward as if to wonder what wind is.

'The wind blows for us both. Don't you see? We are the self-same beings in creation, but apart in flesh.' Lucy frowned at herself as she spoke. Where did they come from, these foreign and untouchable words?

But the deer bent its head down and gathered a mouthful of grass.

Lucy looked down at the earth. Why should the deer eat directly from the earth and not she? It was the difference in flesh, not it soul, but why be so separate? So Lucy plucked a handful of spindly grass and ate.

Soon she discovered that not all grass is alike. The spindly, cylindric grass had a sweet taste to it, while the flat, wide grass had an unusual and bitter taste. Roots were best in grass; they had more taste and more cool freshness beneath the green. Three-leafed clovers were, by far, her favourite. They had a sharp, lemony flavour to them beneath the feel of earth.

In time, she forgot the difference between herself and the deer. They were all the same, once flesh was stripped away with bare likeness between them. She watched the doe in friendliness as the doe paid no notice of her. It was like they _were_ friends in an unspoken agreement. They trusted one another on the same land with the same food.

The doe at once withdrew its neck from the earth and trotted away from Lucy. A feeling of desertion wreathed around her, but then she saw what the doe was trotting to.

Seven deer were all gathered together at that end, with some moving being between them. Not a deer, not a goat, not a man...

A faun.

Lucy stared in amazement at Tumnus, being nuzzled like a child and friend by the deer. He did not notice her, but lay on his back in the grass and relished in the feeling of being.

At once, a strange feeling filled her inside. Why, he was no more faun to her, and she no human. There was not difference between them, when the flesh had rotted. They were the same. None of it mattered, no more than age.

In that moment, Lucy felt more human than she ever did. Her race bound her; but she felt not so ashamed to be human anymore. In fact, it was almost as though this was how Man _should _be. If only they could all experience this... this _belonging_.

'I know you're terribly fond of grass, Lucy,' said a voice behind her. Lucy turned to see Peter, grinning cheekily. 'But how about some _real _food?'

And she was angry again. Once more invaded. Why should she not eat grass? It was the same grass that any deer or hare or creature would eat; why not she? He mocked her in all of this oneness. He had no right to do that.

But she did follow him back to the picnic. But the food tasted strange and heavy in her mouth, not like grass at all. It was far more pleasant with more flavour, but it was so decidedly _different._

And thus she could not decide who she was, but was rather cold toward Peter. For family is forced to love, a promise made not by choice but by blood, and it is not so real as other sorts. But perhaps it was for the better. All the same, Lucy wanted to love unconditionally and be loved such in return. Was it so wrong, wanting to be loved by for who she was and not her blood? For her heritage...

Lucy frowned and shook her head. She tried to remember her heritage. She tried to remember her mother or her father, like all beings have. She attempted to remember being a child before this Narnia, her home before it, Peter's or Susan's face before they were fourteen years of age. Lucy thought of Tumnus, and then of...

Of the handkerchief. Where had it come from? There was no such handkerchief made in Narnia; the material was wrong, the threads were wrong, and then there was the _P._

_LP._

The _L_ was for Lucy, she was certain, but the _P_... what did it mean? She tried to remember, but couldn't. What was it? There was something there, in her mind. Something had come before Narnia, before she had first met Tumnus. Try as she might, it was gone

She could recall nothing.

Lucy loved Narnia and all the joy it brought her. Narnia fulfilled her every whim for adventure and excitement. She was who she wanted to be here... but who was she before she was who she wanted to be? A little girl that she couldn't remember, and neither could anyone else.

She loved Narnia.

But something was very wrong.


	39. Part 4: Opening A Door

**DISCLAIMER: Don't own Narnia or Lucy or Tumnus or anyone or anything in any way, shape, or form. Just thought I'd remind you.**

**Wow, I'm really turning into a procrastinator. Am I ever! But I hope I still have readers, because this is the most exciting part of the book. No, really. The last few chapters are by far the best, I think. After this one, I only have six left to write. Only six! Which means PLEASE don't give up on me just yet; I'm trying to get 200 reviews before I finish.**

**This chapter is really important. No, seriously. I'm dead serious. You've really got to read it. If you don't you'll be at a loss for the rest of your life. It's almost like the turning point of the story. So, please enjoy:**

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Opening A Door

The thought wouldn't leave her mind, no matter how she attacked and tugged at it. She knew, with the rational part of her mind, that it was none of her business and a very silly thought indeed. But life wasn't all rationality. There was beauty in it, too. Thinking of Tumnus that day in the woods made her feel... different. Just different, in a way she couldn't quite put her finger on. Why should it matter so much to her that he was a faun, and she a human? He had just seemed so _alive_, living for that moment alone. What had he thought of when he lay there in the grass? And what made the deer all so drawn in to him, and not she? She was no better or worse in equality to Tumnus.

The thought occupied her head when she needed it for other matters, such as court business – patrolling the borders, Peter's giant hunts, a problem with some goblins up north, the ball...

Oh dear. The ball.

Why was it that royalty felt the need to throw so many balls? One for every birthday, title ceremony, coming-out-party, holiday, season... and then some. The Autumn Gold was the reason for this one, for the leaves were already beginning to turn a slight crimson.

Lucy smiled. Fall was her favourite season. It had such an air about it, a tense excitement, when the air was brisk and intense, while one was just comforted and quiet in their warm clothes. And it had a smell about it that she loved; a smell that was not quite like a storm, not quite like snow, and not quite like fire, but a mix of them all.

She rolled over on her bed and sighed, then stood up. Susan was prattling on about something. Bother. That meant Lucy would have to say something soon. Susan kept saying something about colour. _What colour should it be?_ At least, that's what it sounded like.

'Orange,' said Lucy, after glancing about the room and spying an orange-peach bottle of perfume.

'Orange?' said Susan quizzically, with a sincerely perplexed expression sprawled across her face. 'Orange, Lu? Are you quite sure?'

'Oh, yes. Rhymes with door-hinge,' said Lucy absently, wondering what she'd just answered. 'Colour of... well, oranges. And cheese, and tiger lilies, and grapefruits, and autumn leaves – oh, Susan, autumn's already on its way. Can you believe it?'

'Hmm.' Susan frowned, the spoke to her lady maid, who promptly picked up a bundle of skirts on the bed and began straightening them.

'A sort of burnt orange with mahogany, if you don't mind me sayin', my lady,' said the maid. 'That would look quite nice.'

Susan shrugged. 'Lu, what do you think of that?'

'Hm. Very nice. Lovely.' said Lucy, flopping backwards onto the bed.

'Lucy?' Susan's voice was timid, a mite quiet. 'You know you can tell me anything, don't you?'

'Of course,' said Lucy, not really knowing what she'd just said.

Susan's furrowed, dainty brow became more prominent. 'What's wrong, Lu?'

Lucy leapt bolt upright. 'Whatever gave you the idea that something's wrong?'

The frown on Susan's face instantly melted into a brilliant grin and, giggling, sent her into hysterics. 'Oh!' she cried, wiping tears of mirth from those glittering eyes. 'Now I understand completely!'

Lucy grimaced horrifically. 'What on earth are you talking about?'

'Why, Lu, I had no idea you'd – Wait, don't tell me your don't even _know!_'

Through impatiently gritted teeth, Lucy growled, 'I'd be very keen to find out, Susan.'

'Lucy, if you don't even know it, I'm not sure of what I can tell you,' she chuckled. Then, at her sister's glare, took on a much softer approach. 'Lucy, you pay no attention to anything anyone says. You barely sleep, you hardly eat – just move the food around on your plate – you're so separate from all of us lately, you say you want an _orange_ riding gown –'

'Oh, is that what all the fuss was about? A riding gown?'

'It's becoming quite clear to me now.' Then Susan smiled sweetly. 'So who is he? Is it that charming Solian boy from the South?'

'What on earth are you talking about? Solian looked like a red monkey that drank too much wine!'

'Lucy, anyone can see that you're in love.'

Lucy snorted. 'What? With that prat Prince Solian?' And yet in her mind, the thought sent a sharp jolt through her. _No, it can't be..._

'Not necessarily Solian.' Susan looked down. 'Is there someone else?'

_Not possible... This can't be..._

'No one at all, Susan. Sorry to disappoint you.'

How many secret glances had they shared across the room? How many times had she been too melancholy to continue, and there he'd been to mend the pain? They'd been through so much together... Lucy remembered with a twinge somewhere in the pit of her stomach the day Tumnus had nearly died. When she thought him dead, lying there on the battlefield...

And there, remembering him weak on the sick bed, she she'd crept out of her chambers just to spend the night beside him, feeling heat of his heart beside her. Just so he wouldn't be along on that night while the first winter snow dazzled the windows. She remembered the morning she awoke by his side feeling as though she was smoke or water. The feeling never fully went away and sometimes returned in its full, like when she ate the grass. It was the feeling of loss, of an empty gape in the heart, the death of a loved one.

A loved one.

_I love him._

Was that the buzz of her skin every time their fingertips met while passing a cup of tea? What that why she felt like flying at each smile that flashed across his face? With him, she felt as though she didn't have to be Queen of Narnia or anything else but Lucy. Just her. There were no walls and no masks with him, just raw emotion and feeling. She'd say whatever she wanted to, and he thought none the less of her.

Her first true friend. Her best friend, who loved her unconditionally.

He was not bound to her friendship by family, and thus forced to care for her. She'd never felt so loved in her life when around him, and he gave it willingly.

But was it enough to love her as a friend?

'Lucy, I'm sorry,' Susan sighed. 'I suppose I was wrong; you're not in love. But tell me, please, if you ever are?'

Lucy smiled weakly, suddenly and painfully aware of her sister's presence. 'Sure.'

Susan let the small corners of her mouth curve down. 'Well, all right.' In a soft movement, she arose and left the room, gently closing the door behind.

As soon as she was gone, Lucy stepped from the bed and pulled open a mahogany drawer from her dresser. Under the bracelet Tumnus had given her so many years ago, the old storybooks they used to read, and the book they'd written when she was still a child...

There was the red scarf.

She'd never really returned it when he left it to her on that day, over ten years ago. The day before he disappeared. She'd kept it and relished it all these years, and he'd made a new one, so he'd never asked for it back.

With smooth, trembling hands, Lucy lifted it from the drawer and pressed it to her face, inhaling deeply. She could almost catch the scent of his skin and hair, mingled with the wise musk of old books and chamomile tea.

_What makes a faun so different from a human?_

And then, in the company of solitary emptiness, Lucy knelt, stumbling, to the floor and cried.


	40. Part 4: Perpetual

**DISCLAIMER: No, do not own Tumnus or Lucy or Narnia, etc., etc.**

**Ack! The chapter you've all been waiting for... but I won't give anything away! No, I won't. Only that it's a bit fluffy, which I guess blows the whole thing. Seriously, I want to know: can you do a romance scene (not bedroom, just love) without it being fluff? Or is that basically the definition of fluff?**

**On a much less inquisitive note... Now there are only five chappies left... sniff I may extend it, though... If I get 200 reviews! Gives reader evil eye But no, I kid. It will end when its ready to end, sad though it may be.**

**Anyway, here is the next chapter which I sincerely hope you enjoy. My proofreader (aka Kristin) liked it, but I changed some stuff because this whole book is basically inspired by a dream I had (and my love for Tumnus) that is entirely this chapter. Well, not word for word, but you get the idea. In any case, if it sounds a little weird to you, it probably is. Dreams tend to be like that.**

**Plus, you remember at the end of _Lion, Witch, & the Wardrobe_ Lucy and her siblings can't remember the lamp-post? (As I've often mentioned in earlier chapters.) This plays a pretty big role.**

**I do hope it makes enough sense and you thoroughly savor this experience:**

Chapter Forty

Perpetual

Tumnus had been battling with himself for ever so long what to tell Lucy. Mere thoughts of her plagued his mind and kept him up all night. What would become of him if he continued like this? Lucy had noticed something was wrong and kept asking him, but he had no idea what to say. There was no way he could put into words what exactly he felt for her. Even if he did, what would she think of him then? She would never feel with the passion he had, and not for one so unworthy as he. Nonetheless, Lucy had demonstrated a sort of worry for him lately.

Not that he felt no worry for her, as well. She was acting so strange lately, and kept more and more to herself. She seemed almost fitful at points, and less of his teatime was spent with her in company. Tumnus began to wonder if he'd done something wrong, if he'd treated her unkindly in any way. Or...

His eyes widened horrifically as the mortifying thought burst in. Suppose... she knew.

She must never, never know of the way he felt. Tumnus would surely die if such a thing happened. The act would forever destroy their friendship. Furthermore, it was likely she'd want to see no more of him, and then he'd waste away. Without her, life held no joy, and he held no life.

But it couldn't stop him from contemplating that naïve dream that would enter his mind from time to time: of he together with Lucy. Holding her, inhaling that scent of wild violets that seemed to emanate around her, growing old together, simply being with her. Forever. He'd give anything to spend eternity with her, a whole eternity loving her like no one ever had. If his lips just pressed to her skin once...

Tumnus shook his head. But that would never happen, for she'd never feel as he did. It was impossible, that such a perfect, beautiful creation would ever find favor in a lowly faun such as he. She was, after all, a Daughter of Eve.

In any case, it was apparent that he must stop brooding on this matter. Nothing became of an empty dreams but empty reality, thus he made it a point to go for a short walk. Thus he stepped out the front door and into the woods reddening with ripe autumn. Fallen leaves crunched most delightfully beneath his hoofs, the fiery smell captured in the air. It was one of the finest autumns he'd ever seen. Yet the walk did little to deter his mind from that matter which kept nagging.

As he tread, Tumnus took note of the fine blossoms strewn over all gold foliage, a thin layer of early snow in sparse places. For sure, the most beautiful. Just as his Lucy was...

Tumnus sighed. He hadn't seen Lucy in a fortnight, and hadn't stopped thinking of her since. Perhaps he'd pay her a visit to Cair Paravel... But no. Then she'd get suspicious, and _she mustn't ever know._ It is a sad thought indeed to think of never being with the only one you love, but that was how this had to be. He was unworthy, being a faun, while she a human and a queen. And yet he loved her so... Her name spoken made his pulse stop and rush oceans at the same time. At the mere thought of her, a flame kindled in his heart and would never extinguish.

A deep, hollow sigh heaved out from Tumnus, holding no hope. Of course such a thing was foolish. The misery ached everywhere, but he kept walking with his head his hands. It hurt. Oh, it hurt. Tears were poised to tumble from his hurt eyes, his legs weak and rubbery, but ready to run. And so he ran almost against his will, attempting to stop at no avail. Each corner he turned along the winding path brought more panting and less moisture to the aridness growing in earnest in his mouth. Another corner to turn, then another and another–

He stopped.

For there, before him, was she.

She did not notice him, for she lay resting beside the small path in a verdant bed of leaves. He meant to disappear quietly before she realised his presence, but no movement came. He was frozen, stationary in his steps. He could do nothing while she lay there, beauty in flesh. Just one step to take him away from this place–

Lucy lifted her head from the pillow of fallen foliage and, to Tumnus's horror, spotted him. 'Tumnus!' she cried, startled, and hurried to her feet to straighten her skirts in all of a hustle. 'I'm terribly sorry. How improper of me. I didn't even notice you standing there; silly of me, really, but–'

'Forgive _me_, Lucy,' said Tumnus gently. 'I didn't mean to intrude... shall I, uh... give you some time along with the leaves?'

_Leave you some time alone with the leaves? Tumnus, you idiot! _He'd meant to be witty, dashing, but the more he thought about it, the more stupid his words became. _Could I have been any more foolish?_

But Lucy didn't seem to think him foolish. On the contrary, she laughed fully, using all her teeth and the full stretch of her graceful, childlike face. 'No, Tumnus,' she chuckled. 'The more the merrier, and I'm quite sure the leaves would enjoy your company as well.'

Tumnus smiled, supposing Lucy would suspect less if he continued acting in his usual demeanor, but suppose he acted _too_ informal? Then what would become of the deed?

'Tumnus, you look a mite uncomfortable,' noted Lucy as the faun sat on a cool boulder. 'Is something the matter?' Gingerly, she took her place beside him and brushed some early frost from the stone's smooth face.

'Nothing at all, I'm afraid,' Tumnus lied, but frowned. 'Though I must say you look a bit under the weather yourself.'

'Oh, I don't know!' Lucy sighed fretfully. 'It's just... with the Autumn Golding Ball and all the court matters and... and _everything_... I don't really know what's going on. And then these dreams that I keep having...'

'Lucy, what of these dreams?' asked Tumnus, furrowing his brow in concern. 'What are they?'

Lucy shook her head wildly, reminding Tumnus almost of a lion. 'They're just so... confusing. And–' She looked Tumnus directly in the eye, blazing hotly. 'Something's wrong.'

'What?'

'Something's wrong.' Lucy began wringing her hands. 'I don't know what it is, but... it's almost like something's slipping away. I can't remember things about myself that I should. I'm losing my memories,' she whispered urgently. 'Anything about my life before... I don't know. Anything before _here_, before Narnia, before I was a queen. I can't remember my mother or father, or my first words, or Susan and Peter before they were fourteen, Edmund before he was eleven... And yet I must have known at one point, because there's this big, empty space in my mind. Something's missing from me. I asked Susan, and she doesn't know what I'm talking about. Nor do Edmund and Peter.' She bit her lower lip in earnest. 'I was somewhere _before_ Narnia. But... but that only sounds silly. That can't be right, can it? I've been here all my life.'

Tumnus thought hard, but his memory was shadowy as well. The matter was beginning to frighten him. What force could erase memories? 'No, Lucy,' he said, voice low. 'You haven't.'

Lucy's eyes widened. 'Then where–'

'I don't know, Lucy. I really don't know.'

Lucy buried her head in her hands, crying into them 'What's happening?' she moaned softly, a sob escaping her.

Timidly, Tumnus place a hand on her shoulder. 'Shhh,' he said comfortingly, and then a thought occurred to him. Perhaps... 'There is yet hope. They say the Wishing Stag had been sighted in the Lantern Waste.'

Lucy's head swept to meet his gaze. 'Really?'

'Yes. I... I think you'd consider going to hunt for it with your brothers and Susan.'

Hope settled over face. 'The Wishing Stag...' she breathed. 'It would... tell me what's happening...'

'Indeed he would,' said Tumnus. 'And more.' Absentmindedly, he plucked a stray leaf from her shimmering hair and tucked the stand back into place behind her ear.

Lucy caught his hand in a flash, gripping it tightly, as though it might make all the troubles disappear. Her eyes, doe-like and crystalline with tears, bore into his intensely, as though she were hanging by a thread. He could count each tear on that pale face, each hair on her head. 'Tell me everything will be all right,' she whispered.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. 'Everything will be all right,' he whispered, and drew her closer. 'It'll be all right.'

She pressed her face up against his shoulder. 'Are you only telling me what I want to hear? Do you really think it will be?'

'I know.'

Sighing almost contentedly, Lucy drew in to his chest and wrapped her arms around him. 'Thank you, Tumnus.'

Gently, Tumnus pulled away from her embrace, leaving Lucy a little confused. Without really following his actions, he cupped her chin and pressed his lips to hers.

For a startling few moments, he couldn't move. It was as though he wasn't sure what had happened and whether or not he'd really done it while remaining frozen. But then the absolute reality hit him, and he let himself melt into her.

Lucy broke away, leaving Tumnus blinking at his completely dreamlike state. She looked utterly confused, but there was no denying the perpetual euphoric aura surrounding her.

'Tumnus–' she breathed, but didn't have the chance to finish.

'Lucy, you are the most wonderful person I have ever met,' said Tumnus loudly, the words swimming freely from his blessed lips and each word pronounced with total assurance. 'You're beautiful and kind and... and you give me this _unshakable _feeling whenever I think of you that nothing can ever go wrong and everything is like Christmas, only it's never cold. Can't you see it?' He grabbed both her hands, speaking inches away from her glorious face. 'I _love_ you, Lucy. I can't even remember how long it's been; it's just that overwhelming. I... want to be with you. Forever. And even further!'

He kissed her again, then again, but she seemed so distant. Blank. Her eyes were open, but faced to the leaf-strewn ground. He leaned forward even closer. 'Please, Lucy,' he whispered. 'I know it's stupid of me. I don't really think there's any way you could possibly love me, but... but if there's the slightest chance, if there's any hope at all...'

'Tumnus, I...' she looked down at their interlocked hands. Timidly, she bit her lower lip. '... I can't even begin to imagine my life without you–'

He almost shouted with joy and tried to kiss her again, but she wouldn't allow it.

'But I — I don't know what will become of it,' she stuttered. '_I love you_, Tumnus. Please understand that. But there will be people out there that won't want to hear it. And there are... there are people who would want to end it. If I could make it any simpler I _would_, but there are... _obligations_ that I don't know what to do about... There are matters for being a queen that I don't want to face–'

'I'll face them _with_ you, Lucy,' he said gently, rubbing a thumb over her hand. 'We'll see them through together.'

She frowned and looked away. 'I don't know what's going to happen.'

He reached out and held both sides of her face, wiping away a tear from her eye. 'No one ever does, Lucy,' he smiled.

'But... I don't know if I can... I mean...' Lucy gave up and wrenched her whole being away from him, standing in a worried slouch. '_I'm_ missing. It isn't _like_ there's a piece of me gone; there _is. _I just... I don't know if I can let myself love you, because I'm not really loving you with _all_ of me. And that's how love should be; with all of our love, and all of ourselves. I'm _missing. _I can't even remember...' She sighed and shook her head, then began to walk briskly away.

She was leaving... _Lucy, no... don't go... We can get through this..._ He needed to stop her, bring her back, but his legs wouldn't move...

'Lucy Pevensie, I will love you till the day I die!'

She halted. Pivoted to face him, eyes wide and staring incredulously.

'Even longer than that,' he breathed as she hastened back to him. 'I–'

'Tumnus, what did you say?' she said, an independent strongness in each syllable.

'I said,' he sighed, 'that I will love–'

'No, before that. What did you call me?'

He paused, then said it: 'Lucy Pevensie.'

'_Pevensie._' Lucy began pacing. 'Pevensie, Pevensie, Pevensie... I recognise that name... It's – mine.' She almost smiled, but instead looked deeply at him. 'It's me.'

'You have always been _you_, Lucy.'

'No, but it's... that's what's been missing! It's me! But it's not all of me... There's something else...'

'What else can there be?' he asked.

Lucy sighed, and sat back down next to him, smiling again. 'There is you, and there is me.' With an incredible deepness she kissed him. 'That's all that matters now.' She sighed almost regretfully. 'But soon, when they find out...'

'We would not have been drawn together if there wasn't a decent reason to draw us apart.' Tumnus pulled her back into a close hug. 'If you want us to be a secret, we can.'

She smiled, though it was shaky, and let herself be forgotten in another beautiful kiss. Each dilemma became as thing of the past in that incessant bliss. Now that they were together, she wouldn't let him slip away. No, love was too precious to dissolve.


	41. Part 4: Such a Thing as Perfect

**DISCLAIMER: Do I own it? ... Now what exactly do you mean when you say _own?_**

**Ack! No, I have not written for a while, and, no, I don't expect you to forgive me. I've been so busy lately that I've been getting a lot worse than B's in some subjects. Me, an all-A-hopefully-Oxford-bound student. I've been so busy that I'm actually failing Science and have a D in History. And still have that B in Math. Great. Now I only have four and a half weeks to bring it up. Just wait till my parents find out about this. Thank goodness I didn't decide to take Anna for _the King and I_; they rehearse every day. I would be committing academic suicide at this point.**

**But you didn't read this chapter so you could hear about all my personal issues. You came to read about the budding romance of Lucy and Tumnus! (Wheeee!) I still need to find out (I hate being semi-new on Fanfiction) if 'fluff' counts as any love scene (not bedroom, just love) or just the extremely lovey-dovey kind. Like, is this or was the last chapter fluff? I hate not knowing things!**

**Anyhow, lets stay ON topic, shall we? This next paragraph will be completely devoted to this chapter (or at least Narnia): This is just a cute (fluffy?) chappie that I wanted to write about Lucy and Tumnus before I wrench them away again. Ooops, did I write that out loud? Muaahahahaha! Now you'll HAVE TO read my last four chapters to see what I do to them. (Don't worry, I won't be too cruel; these last chappies have a lot of ups and downs. You'll just have to bear with me and trust me up to the very last chapter.) Yes, only four chapters left. And I'm going to try, despite my failing grades, to finish my entire book by the 9th of December if I can. If not then, then definitely by the 11th. I may not have them posted by that time, but hopefully written. Why by the 9th and 11th of December, may you ask?**

**I had to start a new paragraph so the last one would be strictly about my Narnia book. I would like to finish by the 9th because I want to have written an entire book exactly one year away from the point it was first seen by human eyes. Well, at least American eyes, cause I saw it in the States, and it came out there on the 9th. (Yes, it's already been a year since I wrote 'No Cakes!' Oh, how the time flies... and how the writing improves. I shudder to look back on that first chapter.) By the 11th because I actually saw it on the 11th of December, year 2005 with my youth group. I don't remember what day I began the actual book, so I figure it's better to be careful. Sometime after I had that dream about Lucy and Tumnus, as explained in the last chapter.**

**Wow. I think that was the longest Author's Note I've ever written. Sorry. My mind is kind of confusing. Ah, well, here's the next chapter:**

**P.S. I know that the last sentence may sound like the end of the story, but it isn't. I still have four chapters to go. And please review; I'm only two away from my goal and, although I probably don't deserve your forgiveness for making you wait for so long, I'd appreciate if you dropped a review anyway. Yikes! That A/N took up over a page! I'm sorry! Well, here's your chapter:**

Chapter Forty-One

Such a Thing as Perfect

'The Wishing Stag?'

'The Wishing Stag.'

'In the Lantern Waste?'

'Yes,' Lucy nodded.

Peter grinned broadly. 'Well, we'll have to catch it, then; there's no time to lose!'

'I'll shall tell the beavers to schedule our hunt tomorrow,' said Susan, 'after the Autumn Golding Ball.'

'_Our_ hunt?' Edmund scoffed in such a haughtiness that Lucy couldn't tell whether or not he was joking. 'Susan, you needn't worry about that. You girls can stay here at the castle; I'll get the Stag myself.'

Susan placed her hands indignantly on her hips, but Lucy frowned in mock concern, playing his game. 'Oh, Edmund, you needn't fret your little head. You don't need to catch the Stag to prove you're as good as we are... We already know we're better.' That sent her and Susan into a mad fit of giggles.

In amazement, Peter gazed watchfully at his youngest sister, pensive. Not two weeks ago he'd witnessed Lucy in such a condition of emptiness it almost hurt him to look at her. She didn't seem entirely one with herself, as though her body had taken over what her mind should have done. Lucy had withdrawn herself from the company of her family and mostly kept to herself, locked away in her chambers. And now... now it was as though her inner winds had changed directions in an instant. A glow seeped out from behind her face and radiated all around her, always met with a lighthearted smile. Autumn suited her well, and with good reason. They both had a gold, rosy tint to them and an nimbus of felicity. Not merely that, but each Narnian monarch had been titled with a season, and Lucy's was Autumn. Peter himself was Summer, while Susan was Spring and Edmund Winter. Tonight was Lucy's night, the Autumn Golding, and she would be decked out in all her glory for the whole of Narnia to behold.

'Susan, Lucy,' Peter said, interrupting their glad laughter, 'don't you think you girls should go prepare for the ball now? I mean, it usually takes you a long time...'

'Oh, my. He's right, Lucy, look at the hour!' Susan pointed at a pewter sundial outside the gaping window where the time was clear: two o'clock. The ball would begin at sunset and dwindle into the night. 'We should begin getting ready. Off you go, shoo!'

Still chuckling, Lucy scampered up the marble stairs to her chambers, and Susan followed in a more stately fashion with her hand sweeping up the railing beside her.

'Ed?' Peter asked as Edmund bent down to lace his boot.

Edmund stood. 'Yes?'

'Have you noticed something... _different_... about Lucy?'

Edmund's brow knit together not unpleasantly, but ponderously. Nonetheless, there was a smile on his face. 'Yes. She's always so... I dunno. _Cheery_. And thank Aslan; we all know there hasn't been enough cheeriness in Narnia for a while, especially around Lucy.'

'It almost seems as though something's wrong with her,' Peter contemplated.

Edmund frowned. 'No.' Then he smiled, intrigued. 'It's as though everything is right.'

❦

In the dark safety behind the door, Lucy hid with baited breath. She'd never had much of a problem before with the Autumn Golding, but now... now there was an anxiety in her chest that played an electric buzzing between her ears. All of her muscles were tense, her feet pacing back and forth. It never caused such a bother before...

_You've done it a dozen times, for years now!_ She tried to rationalise, but to no avail. _Just let Peter and the rest present you, and stand there at the top of the stairs looking pretty. No one will care; everyone in Narnia has known you since you were a little girl._

But that was exactly what she was afraid of. Suppose she stood there for all the world to see, a symbol of Autumn and all that is gold and fleeting, and he looked back, thinking her a child. He'd said nothing yet about the astounding difference in their age, but what if he looked now and saw a child, not a woman? Then he'd realise the mistake he'd made: choosing a little girl, over a century younger than he. Though he hardly began to show the marks of age, just two dashing silver streaks by his ears.

'Lucy?'

Lucy jumped.

'Are you ready?' Susan asked, not really caring what the answer was. For Susan, it was another court affair, another ball, another duty to fulfill. Susan wouldn't understand. Why, Lucy even doubted that Susan had ever even loved. Lucy could fall to her feet at that very moment, sobbing that she couldn't do it. What if he took a second look and thought her ugly, a scourge on his life? She couldn't do it, never, never, never...

Shaking, Lucy tucked a wavy lock behind her ear. She straightened to a stately, graceful height, smoothed a wrinkle in her skirts and breathed, 'I'm ready.'

Susan nodded and stepped briskly out the door. A snitch of sunlight peeked through the frame, and Lucy sharply inhaled. Outside, Peter, Susan, and Edmund were presenting her. She knew the speech by heart; she said it herself, with some substitutions, for all the rest of them. But now, the words were blurred. Any second now, she'd fall over from the fright. Any second now...'

'Lucy the Valiant, Monarch of Narnia, Ruler of the Northen Sky, Queen of Autumn!'

'Here goes,' she whispered to herself.

Out into the bright light of the Great Hall, light streaming in through broad windows, paper lamps, torches, phenomenally bright candles. All shining on her, the band honouring her with brilliantly played music. The faces of all Narnia, each subject, each courtier, each noble. Every beast, every dwarf, every naiad, dryad, every faun...

There he was.

She averted her gaze, too afraid of what he'd think now. All those other years it was perfectly fine, but now... The progress of three hours by her maids and ladies-in-waiting now stood clothed in the finest material, and she still felt naked.

But Tumnus was there. He stood his ground, didn't seem bothered or afraid... but entranced.

Lucy was almost like a painting... No, even more beautiful than that. A painting would bear her garments of fine silk shimmering in colours of vehement flame like the foliage outside, gold ribbons gliding on the wind. A painting could master the curve of her nervous yet brilliant smile, the shine of her chestnut locks piled elegantly atop her scalp, the iridescent luster of her silver crown. Any artist could conjure from a brush the full curves of her perfect body which, try as he might, Tumnus could not take his eyes off of. But there was that aura she always had, that refined wildness in her movement and the glow of her soul peering out from behind the smallest action. How the music seemed to be written for every step she took, and yet it did her no justice. She could not be bridled.

It seemed as though everything else melted beneath him, only their two eyes sharing thoughts. _Why did you choose me?_ It reverberated through Tumnus's mind, echoing inside him. _How did I become worthy of this angel?_

He wasn't really aware of anything, merely watched her for so long that he'd forgotten all else. Was she dancing with her brother, or another man? Should he stay a respectable distance away? How long had it been? It was all a blur of time and movement until the point when a familiar tune was played out on a flute and soon followed by strings and horns.

The Silver Mist.

Before he knew what he was doing, he held out his hand expectantly, asking her to dance. Obligingly, she took it and the two manouvred as one to the middle of the dance floor.

'Tumnus,' she whispered, but smiled. 'People will notice us. I thought we said it's best if we stayed a secret.'

'I don't care.' He spun her around in a circle. 'Let them all know. Besides, we've been friends for years. I do think it would be a trifle odd to them if we didn't dance at _all_.'

'You may be right.'

The music played enigmatically, the steps lively and spirited, so it left little time for words, but they didn't need any. Lucy knew every time he squeezed her hand, touched her waist, his fingers whispered _I love you_, and she whispered back. Soon enough, she closed her eyes, letting Tumnus and the music carry her. Footfalls thumped and twirled, her own heartbeat adapted to the rhythm.

'Lucy,' he said after a while. 'You may have to stop before the band gets too upset.'

Lucy frowned and opened her eyes, then laughed out loud. A blanket of fog had streamed into room and had submerged everyone to their elbows. Those who weren't attempting to navigate through it were looking about themselves in utter confusion, the band ridiculously indignant that someone had actually called the mists.

'You'll have to forgive us, Lucy,' Tumnus chuckled. 'We're all not as marvellous dancers as you are.'

As soon as everyone on the dancefloor understood what had happened, the merriment spread. Before too long, everyone was laughing gaily, and the band was in high spirits again, for in a few moments the cloud subsided to a pleasant mist lapping at everyone's ankles. Lucy was blushing, her face hidden in Tumnus's shoulder. But then she laughed out loud with everyone else and was pulled into a wide, swinging embrace by Tumnus.

The whole event was so jolly that everyone had sparks in their eyes from such mirth, even from those who sat out of the dance. Edmund and Peter were settled comfortably into their thrones on the dais, watching their sisters dance.

'Peter?' asked Edmund.

'Hm?' Peter was still chuckling to himself. Lucy had such aknack for the Silver Mists.

'You know what?' Edmund said, smiling. 'I think she loves him.'

Peter turned his head quickly to Edmund, but Edmund was already watching her. She wasn't a child anymore, that was to be sure. The two jubilantly hugging each other together: her hand clasping his shoulder, their fingers singing together in mute music, their beaming faces and glinting eyes identical.

With a sort of warm sigh, Peter smiled. 'I think you're right.'

With a happy smile, the band struck up a tinkling melody that soon billowed into pure magnificence woven from music. Tumnus smiled and pulled Lucy close into him, kissing the top of her head.

'Dance, Lucy,' he whispered. 'Till the stars are too weak to play your music, dance.'

They did.


	42. Part 4: The Last Hunt

**DISCLAIMER: I own lots of things... a butterfly chair, my first LOTR cinema ticket, socks, lots of ribbons, a Winterthur pen, a beret... Sadly, Narnia doesn't happen to be on that list.**

**I've probably lost all my readers by now, simply because they've gotten too impatient with me. Oh, well. I HAVE 200 REVIEWS!!! And thank you to all who contributed to that (or will, in future...) and to all who haven't given up on finishing this book.**

**I dedicate the chapter with love to the late Doulgas Adams, who had great faith in the number forty-two. Chapter forty-two is dedicated to you, Doug. And speaking of chapters...**

**COUNTDOWN: Three left.**

**Sad, isn't it?**

**This is a kind of long chappie. I was going to make it longer, but decided against it. That will have to carry over into chapter forty-three, forty-four... whichever I choose. Enjoy, now, this not extremely well-written chapter (because I'm trying, for the most part, to just finish it by December 9th and not care whether or not it's well written) to the best of your ability. I shall see you in the next chapter.**

Chapter Forty-Two

The Last Hunt

Lucy frowned in thought, examining the new dress. For a choice on the spur of the moment, an orange riding gown didn't look so terrible. In fact, she rather liked it. It brought about a pleasant change from the usual green robes, and she'd never been so bold as to dive into the chance for an orange dress. Surprisingly, it suited her. Lucy always thought she looked best in lavender, but most of Susan's wardrobe was now lavender silk, imported from Terebinthia, so that wouldn't do at all. _Perhaps_, Lucy thought, _as soon as we're done with the hunt, I shall order a whole set of orange gowns._

It wasn't a bright orange, just deep and charming, with brown and gold trimmings. Staring in the mirror, Lucy remarked that she looked nicer than she'd looked in a while. Perhaps it was because she was dressed so informally, her hair tumbling freely onto her shoulders with a few loose braids. Perhaps she'd just been happier lately, a bright glow to her face... and yet something was missing.

Smiling, Lucy pulled open a drawer from her oak dresser and pulled out a long, red muffler. Just the thing. After tying it around her neck, waist, and shoulder, deciding it looked equally unimpressive on each, she placed it the riding bag slung over one shoulder. It would be present, yet out of the way, keeping company with a few other trinkets: a scattering of gold coins, a blue ribbon for her hair, a single glove which had lost its partner, and one modest ring.

Lucy gingerly tucked the scarf into the bag, but plucked out the ring and studied it with silent, repressed euphoria before placing it on her finger. It wasn't flashy or elegant, just a simple gold ring with a tiny ruby and an engraving. The words were of a language she didn't know, but their meaning she'd been told: love. This was a ring to be cherished through all ages.

❦

A pleased snuffle escaped the young mare as Lucy hugged it tightly round the neck, feeding it a strawberry from her hand. With long fingers, she stroked its amber nose and whispered, 'You up for a big run, Root?'

The mare whinnied back, nudging her hand lovingly.

'We're going after the White Stag.' Lucy procured a brush and began sweeping it across the horse's chestnut flanks, then strapped on a saddle heavily adorned with tassels and bells, and a leather bridle. 'It's fast enough that no one's ever captured it,' said Lucy, grinning proudly. 'And today, my brothers and Susan and I are going to catch it.'

'That's awfully confident of you,' said an amusingly sly voice behind her.

Lucy whirled around and was met with the most familiar face she knew. Instantly her expression melted into one of pure gladness. 'Tumnus!' Lucy cried, and at once ran over to him and flung herself around him.

Tumnus spun her around in his arms, chuckling good-naturedly and running his fingers through her soft hair. 'Lucy, Lucy, Lucy,' he said into her ear, his voice beaming. 'Every day I love you more.' A kiss was pressed onto her lips, then another and another. With a last squeeze, she was released. 'And every day you grow more busy.'

'We shall be together soon, I promise,' Lucy assured him, taking his hands. 'It's just been so long since Susan and Peter and Edmund and I have all gotten together. And the White Stag, no less.'

'I understand,' he said. 'But perhaps, if you needed an escort...?'

Lucy smiled and kissed him softly on the cheek. 'Next time.'

Tumnus drew her in closer, forearms meeting the gentle curve of her shoulders. He inhaled, taking in the fresh scent of her hair. 'Have you an answer for me yet?'

Lucy drew back, staring, not at him, but at the jewellery on her finger, intertwined with his hands. 'Tumnus... I'd always thought it was best not to rush into such things, and we've only been..._ together_... for a matter of weeks– '

He, too, looked down.

'But I've loved you for even longer than that. So I think, in this case,' Lucy pressed their faces close together, 'we shouldn't have to wait any longer than we have to.'

Tumnus looked up at her, disbelieving joy all over his face, and at once swept her away into another long embrace met with a kiss. 'As soon as possible,' he promised 'You'll be more exquisite than ever in a fall wedding.' He nuzzled closer to her, breathing, 'I can't believe you're mine.'

'Not yours _yet_,' Lucy said. 'Not in word. But yours in heart, as you are in mine.'

A loud voice called from not too far off, startling the two of them. 'Lucy!' it called. Lucy recognised it as Peter's. 'Lu? Where are you? Edmund's just spotted the Stag! Get over here!'

Tumnus smiled at her. 'Go,' he urged her. 'The Wishing Stag is waiting.'

'But it will be an empty triumph, once we catch it,' Lucy said, placing a last kiss on his cheek. 'I already have anything I could ever want.' In an instant, she'd saddled her mare and was galloping off.

'I love you!' Tumnus called after her, unsure if she'd heard or not. Either way, she was still riding on. 'I love you,' he said, more softly, this time knowing she hadn't heard, but it wasn't as important. The only thing that mattered now was that his words were true.

❦

Each moment of the hunt was more glorious than the last. Lucy hadn't felt so close to her siblings in ages; it was as though _this_ was what family was really like. Despite all their disputes, they were together in that moment. And it didn't seem to matter to her what the next moment would bring, only that this time riding for the Stag was just so _beautiful_.

Hour after hour they rode on, drawing nearer to the Stag. _It's so terribly aggravating to always be seeing its back,_ she thought, during a particularly in-depth chase. _But no matter; soon we shall be seeing it face-to-face!_

The bright noon light that set them off on the journey had kindled into a brilliant sunset that hid resplendently behind the forest, beams reaching down between the branches to touch their jubilant faces as the Stag raced on, and they followed: down one hill, up another, winding through twisted paths and over fallen logs, around another corner and another –

Then the White Stag granted itself a burst of speed and disappeared into the trees.

Peter sighed, laughing in his kingly way, and slowed to a stop. At last, his long cloak flapped out the last of its wind and fell to meet his ebony stallion's back. 'There it goes again,' he chuckled, and ran a hand through his thick yellow hair. 'But we'll gain on it soon enough.'

Lucy smiled, knowing he was right. All the same, if the hunt went on too much longer, they'd have to retire back to the Cair and continue the hunt tomorrow.

Susan raised her head and looked about. 'Where's Ed?'

'Yes, where _is_ that brother of mine?' sighed Peter. 'Lagging behind again, I suppose.' Still, the three of them trotted back a bit where they saw him stopped in a clearing.

'Come on, Ed!' called Susan.

Edmund smiled weakly. 'Just catching my breath.'

'Well, that's _all_ we'll catch at this rate!' she cried, vexed.

'What did he say again, Susan?' asked Lucy playfully, knowing very well what he'd said the other day.

Susan seemed to remember as well, and recited with a mockingly silly tone and expression: ' "You girls wait at the castle; I'll get the Stag myself!" '

Edmund again looked quite sheepish as the two girls let loose a fit of giggles.

As they quieted, Peter spoke. 'What's this?' He spoke seemingly to himself, and unsaddled his horse immediately, staring and walking toward the strange object, mesmerised. Susan and Edmund, too, got off their horses, but Lucy didn't see what it was at first. Then she noticed it, and joined them.

Not one of them could take their eyes off it: a tall, black pole made of some kind of metal standing up from the ground, with a burning lantern fixed at the top of it.

_How funny_, Lucy thought, staring at it. It felt as though is she stared hard enough at the lantern it might tell her something – strange things were stirring within her, almost but not quite like remembering an old friend or forgotten memory.

'It seems familiar,' Peter said, a strange concentration in his voice, as though his words were frowning, as though he'd found something that made him less strong, less like a king, and he didn't know what to make of it.

Susan's voice was spellbound: 'As if from a dream.'

Indeed, a dream. Soon Lucy found herself saying, 'Or a _dream_ of a dream.' It drew them all in, as though time had stopped and they were the only people that mattered in the world anymore.

And suddenly something returned to her.

'_Spare Oom!_'

The words rolled off her tongue, as though she'd known them forever.

And things began to fit together.

_Spare Oom. War Drobe_... _Pevensie!_ They were all connected, all part of the same place... but where was it? They felt all jumbled up in her mind, all separate from each other...

_And yet they all fit together_.

She took a slow stomp forward. _– This is incredible. Impossible! But it's happening. – _and another, faster. Then another, breaking away from the spell of the strange lamp. She hitched up her full skirts, amber cape flying out behind her.

It snapped everyone else's hypnotised state. At once, all three of them noticed she'd gone.

'Lucy?'

'Lu?'

Susan groaned. 'Not again.'

They were following her, coming after to see where it was she was going, where she was running off.

_Not running off. Running to!_

She didn't know why she was running, where it was, what it was, only that it held the answers, and she couldn't get there fast enough. Her mind didn't know where it was, but her feet had tread this path before. She had this feeling that she was getting closer to Tumnus, as though he'd know what was happening, how he played in this. There was something close by that would bring her closer to _home_.

_What is home?_

'Lu?' Peter called after her._ What was she running to?_ There was this absolute assurance that it was waiting for her, just waiting...

'Come on!' she called behind her shoulder.

They followed, seeming not obliged, but fascinated against their will. Each of them knew it: something was happening. But Lucy knew what was going on. At some point, they all wanted to just yell out, asking what it was all about, but instead they stepped forward, silently. On through twigs of red leaves, prying apart bushes and stems of flowers, furs...

_Furs._

Peter pulled himself out of a messy pelt, perplexed. 'These aren't branches.'

Not branches, and the space was getting smaller. Grunts were heard as they tried to push forward.

Susan looked up at the pelts, triggering something in her mind... 'They're coats.'

'Susan, you're on my foot!' cried Edmund, and everything was lost in cramped chaos.

'Peter, move over!'

'Ouch!'

'Get off my toe!'

'I'm not _on_ your toe!'

'...Oof!'

One after another, they fell out onto the hard earth with loud grunts of surprise.

Lucy groaned, sitting up a little, then immediately let herself back down. Something was wrong. She felt so unbalanced, so small. Her clothes were itchy everywhere...

She looked up at Susan. But... Susan wasn't _Susan._ There was a girl there, a child in a pauper's clothes and no jewels. Lucy almost called out for Peter, but looked over and found that he, too, was gone. In his place was a boy. Not a king, not a knight, not the legendary fighter of Narnia... but a boy. Edmund, too.

_Oh, no..._

And she... was a little girl, the smallest of them all.

_What have I done?_


	43. Part 4: The Last Breath

**DISCLAIMER: Don't own Tumnus, nor Lucy, nor Narnia, (I own Baviar, that sexy fox! Also the nameless female centaur and the sexy gryffin Daumler (people spell _gryffin_ different ways according to what history they've looked at; I use the _gryffin_ spelling and have used it throughout this entire book, which has two chapters left.) I most certainly do not own Aslan. No one can. After all, it's not as though he were a _tame_ lion.**

**Two chappies left... and this chapter took forever, as usual. Hey, I'm a procrastinator. What can I say? I could lie and say this and that came up, but the truth was I was too darn lazy to sit down at a computer. You've heard this a billion times. I'll probably go back and fix some errors that I was too lazy to fix before. Plus, I wrote chapter eleven before LWW came out on DVD, so I kinda forgot to write that Tumnus crowned them all... I know. Shame, shame. I also have some Aslan as God spiritual stuff in here, which I'd been slipping in there a bit before, so if you're atheist and don't like it, DEAL. All my Christian instincts are kicking in, probably due to being a pastor's daughter all my life... oh well.**

**It's amazing how a writing style can evolve. I apologise if anyone was bored with Part One and Part Two. I was trying to sound like C.S. Lewis, but that bombed. It's better to write like yourself.**

**Eat your heart out! Here goes:**

Chapter Forty-Three

The Last

Tumnus rubbed his hands again and again as though in a deep fever, pacing the floor till he was almost certain it would be rubbed raw into a blistering crimson. She said they'd be back at the castle certainly by twilight. Yet here is was, the hours building so high up that he wanted to knock them back down. Darkness had long since fallen on Cair Paravel, and not a hair of any four monarchs had been spotted.

_Where is she?_

The sundials could no longer be seen in the darkness, but the large hourglass in the Great Hall read midnight. Night was constantly on an earlier approach in autumn, and still they couldn't be found. A search party had been sent out hours ago and not one member had returned, so there was yet hope. They could come barging in any moment, crying out that they'd found Lucy and the rest.

_They could..._

The doors of the Great Hall flew open with a great gust of wind that violently whipped Tumnus's hair into his eyes, a storm of fallen brown leaves flying in on the draft from the night air outside. Leaping in through the foyer came Baviar, the fox, followed in urgency by a female white centaur, both startling beacons against the black sky. Tumnus immediately raced down the steps, crying, 'You found them, haven't you? You must have– '

'Master Tumnus,' the female centaur said solemnly, 'not a hair of them. It seems...' She gulped. 'It seems a temporary Steward must be put into place.'

'..._What?_' His voice was breathy, shocked. 'But... no! No, they're out there, I know it –'

'Master Tumnus,' murmured the centaur, 'seeing as you were their closest advisor, you must take the throne in place of – '

'I _am _their advisor!' Tumnus screamed. 'They're not dead! They _can't_, they wouldn't! I can't rule Narnia! Only a Son of Adam or – '

'Tumnus,' said Baviar, tears almost visible in his eyes, 'we all loved Their Majesties. But wishing for them to come back won't make it happen. There is time, yes. Three days. If no one hears of them until then, we will have to announce them dead. Still, you and I both know it cannot happen.'

Tumnus couldn't speak, but he understood. The air was quiet, like an empty room where there was once laughter.

'There is a stillness in the air,' whispered Baviar. 'A stillness that can only mean one thing. I understand you don't want to rule Narnia, and the regulations are against a faun on a throne. In three days, we'll send delegates to Archenland to settle an alliance through marriage.' Baviar raised his voice. 'Beavers, you must be prepared to plan an alternative funeral for Their Majesties, and – '

The doors to the Great Hall opened again. Tumnus's heart leapt up into his throat. _They've been found! They've been sighted!_

A gryffin sailed through the foyer, yelling, 'Sires!'

'Daumler, what is it?' demanded Baviar. 'Have you found Their Majesties?'

'That is the least of our troubles,' panted the gryffin. 'Sir Baviar, my scouts have sent word of an army in the West.'

There was silence from everyone but the centaur. 'But there are no lands West!' she cried. 'We've never heard any word from there but the battle, and that was less than a year ago. We slaughtered their army; there can be no more!'

'Centaur, they are _human._'

Almost like an invisible mantle, a wave closed in on the room, leaving each disquieted.

Daumler continued. 'They spoke of being from a land called _Telmar_. Their leader calls himself Caspian. Numbers are great; I have not yet received an exact count, but I saw with my own eyes but one camp, and that alone held hundreds of blood-lusting people. From what we saw, they are still in the makings of weapons and battle plans, so they shouldn't attack for a long while, mayhap a few weeks. Even still, we must prepare for the fight immediately. I cannot imagine – '

Tumnus heard no more. It couldn't be... not now. He tried to say something – anything – but no words would come. He stood, frozen, fear painted in icy white across his skin. They couldn't be gone, not any of them, _not her..._ It was impossible. She couldn't be... Just this morning he'd seen her, touched her, kissed her, told her that he loved her. _She said she'd be back!_ he screamed inwardly. _She wouldn't just leave like that, with any army planning to attack us. There must be another way out... She wouldn't leave me alone to lead these people! I can't fight, I am no warrior!_ He couldn't stop staring at the gryffin, eyes wild and hands shaking, a cold sweat down his spine.

Without a word, he turned and ran.

He was called after in words he heard but did not process. They yelled his name, told him to come back, and footsteps followed him, but he wouldn't stop running. Past those heavy doors and into the raw air, suffocating with autumn chill and black. H tripped over his own hoofs, but the imbalance was fleeting. Soon he was standing again, his wild search continued. Into the corners of the night he called her name, with only emptiness responding. _Where is she where is she where is she...? Oh, Aslan, hear me now above every prayer I've ever prayed, please let her be alive. Please let her be safe, don't let her leave me now, let me find her!_

He ran feverishly on for hours, through foliage and brush, crying out again and again, but she was nowhere to be seen. With a fury such as this, he couldn't see where he was going or where he faced, only that she was not there. He could be halfway to Ettinsmoor for all he knew, and Lucy was nowhere in sight. He hadn't seen her for so long... how long had he been searching for her?

It didn't matter how long, anyway. He would search till the end of time and beyond, no matter how tired he was, as long as there was still hope. So he ran, tripping tiredly over imperfections on the earth and falling to the ground. Dirt was soaked into his skin, thorns raking flaws and blood on his arms, rotting leaves caught in his hair. He could barely see the road before him, his eyes were so blurred from fatigue and tears, but it wouldn't stop him.

An eternity condensed into the few long hours he trekked onward, not knowing where Lucy was, where or who he was himself. He blindly swaggered through trees, for he'd long ago forgotten the dirt path. His knees wavered beneath him, no longer able to hold up the weight of his body and sorrow all at once. Stuporous, he raised his head to see a lone of light along the horizon. Tumnus had scoured the land from dark to dawn, but she was nowhere to be found.

And yet there was another light, an orange pinprick shining through the tangle of branches. Tumnus peered through the early morning fog to see a long metal post sprouting up from the ground, a lantern atop it.

_It is the lamp-post._

_Lucy!_

It brought such a loudly ringing hope that he leapt forward and flew past tree after tree to the clearing. _She's been here, I know it; I can feel her._

She wasn't there.

He gazed around, eyes staring in vain for a glimpse of her, a sign that she was still here, but nothing. In a twisted, sickly daze he staggered through the clearing, screaming her name as though it would rid the pain that tore his lungs apart.

'Lucy!'

Nothing.

'_LUCY!!'_

Again and again the word was flung from his lips until tears choked him into silence, until the leaden heaviness of his feet stumbled clumsily over a fallen branch, making him sink like a rock to the ground. Wearily, he opened his clouded eyes but a sliver to search for one last hope, one last glimpse...

_Oh, no. Please, no._

Trembling, Tumnus reached a frail hand and grasped the small trinket on the ground. He could feel everything slipping away from him; colour, strength, thought just ebbing away at his soul, his life fleeting. He could only feel. Feel the weight of the ruby ring in his hand, the burden of grief settling like some poisonous blanket over him.

She's gone.

A strange rustling noise sounded from somewhere above. Shaking, he lifted his head to see a shape emerging through the fog: four solid hoofs, a chestnut flank, a whinnying snout. Root. Lucy's horse.

_The last sign. She has gone home._

Summoning the last strength left in him, he lurched upright and felt weakness overpower him again. His steps faltered, leaving Tumnus to brace himself against Root's flank. Foggily, Tumnus pulled himself onto the mare's back and slumped himself as close to the horse's body as he dared without falling off. At once, Root trotted forward, a melancholy symbol of hope lost, of fallen dignity, of the last fight of Tumnus.

It was some time in late afternoon that Root made it to Cair Paravel, mournfully welcomed by the remainders of the Royal Court. Gasps and cries of shock travelled through the crowd at the sight of Queen Lucy's horse and none of the monarchs to be seen. Still cries rippled about the crowd when they saw Master Tumnus weakly lying atop, then slowly being handed down to the earth and carried, gently, into the castle.

He was immediately placed in his chambers and a hoard of nymphs were called with their healing lotions and herbal medicines. A messenger soon returned with the youngest queen's cordial and applied it forthwith to his wounds where he'd fallen on sharp stones, been pierced by thorns and the cruelty of the forest. Still nothing healed him.

The beavers stood watch close to his bed, Baviar pacing on all fours. 'Why won't he heal?' the fox hissed. 'He's been given the _cordial_, for Aslan's sake!'

'It's fatigue,' said Mr Beaver. 'He strained himself to such an extent... you try running from midnight to dawn from here to the Lantern Waste.'

'I think, Baviar,' said Mrs Beaver gently, that he is far too broken beneath his wounds to be helped from the outside.'

'What do you mean by that?' Mr Beaver asked, but with a moment of thought, he understood.

Thus it was. Those attending to the faun and those there for comfort stood helplessly about the room. They were the only souls to witness the last breath of Tumnus the faun.

❦

Tumnus awoke gently, if you could call it that. The sensation was so peculiar; it was less like waking up and more like sleeping, but in a way that made him excited and alive, not drowsy. He wanted to leap up and dance, but he was too perplexed to move. Here he was, in his den, comfortably sprawled across his favourite chair by the fire. Moments ago he'd been in the forest, clumsily riding Root back to the Cair.

Tumnus jumped. 'Aslan,' he breathed. 'What are you... How did I... eh?'

The Lion rumbled, amused. 'Welcome home, Tumnus. Soon we must leave for your true home, but I thought you might appreciate it if I let you first come alive in your own home.'

'_Come alive_... but I thought... I remember a very heavy feeling. I felt like water or air, and everything was black and white at the same time... Aslan, I think I _died_.'

A golden, furry smile curved across Aslan's face. 'To what it was once called, yes. In the simplest way, you did. But by dying you have been shown what it is like to _live_. Come with me now; it is time to return to My Country.'

'Aslan...' he breathed. 'But... I was alive only a moment ago.'

'Does it sadden you, Faun?'

Tumnus frowned and looked in his soul, wanted to answer honestly. 'No,' he said. 'But I feel almost empty. Is that wrong?'

'It will leave, soon enough. You needn't be empty if you don't want to. The sadness of that world is gone; only promises are made in this world. I know what you think, Tumnus. You and Lucy will be together soon, and that, too, is a promise, one that I make with no hesitation and full confidence. Have you regrets of your past life that you never felt before?'

'No,' said Tumnus, looking down. 'Not really. I only wish,' he murmured, 'that I had been a Son of Adam. Then I may have been equal to Lucy.'

In a blaze, Aslan pierced Tumnus with a glare of sternness. 'Wish no such thing, Faun. For now there are no inequalities, only rewards. Were there ever such a barrier between the both of you, it was dissolved by love. No, the only walls were in your mind. Now you are son of the Emperor Beyond the Sea, and his right-hand man.'

Tumnus smiled and stood, sweeping the room with one last gaze. With consideration, he walked over to a small table, reaching for a handkerchief and the small ring.

'There will be no need for those, Tumnus,' rumbled Aslan gently. 'For where you are going, there will be no tears to dry, and you will be given jewels finer than any you knew here.'

'Please, sir; I think the finest diamond would never be so precious to me.'

As if he knew all along that was what Tumnus would say, Aslan nodded deeply in a cascade of gold fur. 'And that is how it should be, My son.'


	44. Part 4: The Last Wish

**DISCLAIMER: By this time, I'm pretty darn tired of putting up the disclaimer and I wish I had something almost-witty to say that is along the lines of 'I don't own it'. But I'm all out of almost-witty thoughts and I still have to put up disclaimers. So, here goes. ))Yawns(( ...I don't own it.**

**It probably won't make you feel any better, but it makes _me_ feel better, so let me say that I was actually ready to put up this chapter a few days before I actually did, but I left the beginning of the chapter at school where I couldn't get it... ))sniff((**

**Oh, well. By the way, I'll probably put up the last chapter a bit speedier than I normally do, because it's my assignment in Ms. Lokke's creative writing class to do one fiction, and I was all, 'Hey. What the heck. I may as well finish this and have it count for a grade.' So thanks, Ms. Lokke. (By the way, Ms. Lokke made a cameo appearance in Rendering the Powerful, my co-authored fic under the name Iridescent Earth and Swords. I wonder if she'd be flattered... Perhaps.)**

**Oh, you might not understand who Eustace, Jill, and Polly are if you haven't read the books, and they also appear in this chapter. So if you haven't, let me tell you they're people that also went to Narnia as children.**

**Enjoy, if you haven't stopped reading by now. I'm sorry I'm a procrastinator. I'll be content if one person has read through the entire thing; it's taking me over a year to write this.** **As an I'm-sorry present, this next chapter is longer than usual.**

Chapter Forty-Four

The Last Try

Entry, Lucy Pevensie's diary, dated July 12, 1940:

It is the same bittersweet regret found in each self-same tale. We, the fallen heroes of some forgotten child's myth, are left behind to suffer away from a life once lived. I flatter myself to imagine that no soul ever knew agony; my pain is heaviest of them all, worse than any sad tale lamented, yet it can be empathised by no one. I, myself, wonder if each joy was a dream, or else it was more real than any illusion I have ever lived, and I shall soon wake and find myself out of this nightmare. There's nothing left for me here; my heart was snagged on a radiant thorn and caught forever in Narnia. Were I there now, I'd be too ashamed of myself to allow anyone sight of me. Each night my eyes are red and watery with tears, my body shaking in fits of sobbing convulsions, small and strange to me now. Because I now am such a child, I hardly know how to act, who I should pretend to be. How should a young English girl be expected to walk, have tea, answer her elders? It becomes a little to queer when a stranger will catch my attention by calling me 'dear' or 'little girl'. Sometimes I half-expect Baviar, my tutor, to come padding up behind me and insisting that they bow and refer to me as 'You Majesty'. Sometimes, in morning, I wake with excitement, thinking that today I'll learn that tricky sword manouvre Yuren promised to show me, or that I'll take my mare out to that clearing in the wood I've been wanting to explore.

But these things all are vain fantasy, remnants from the latent part of my heart that need the old world, a dormant life struggling up through the cracks in the sidewalk for light, for water, for hope. Just as I seen a sliver of green, the summer heat comes and withers it away. Because then I awaken, feel the lumpy bed, scratchy sheets, and a paper-thin nightgown and see Susan sleeping beside me because there aren't any other beds in the house, and I know I'm not Queen Lucy the Valiant anymore. And Susan is just that: Susan. No titles, no regal air. She says nothing of it, nor do her expressions reveal anything. She even shows no emotion or any sign that she mourns as deeply as the rest of us; I am at least aware of the grief I share with Edmund and Peter, for they are marked by a veil of emptiness across their eyes, signaling that they suffer at least as deeply as I do. I see them all. My brothers wilt away, their kingliness almost dust, and Susan suffers most of all. I begin to think if she recalls our life, our bliss at all. We, like any flower, are struggling for life but are in vain. Our memories shrink into nothing, just as, slowly, we do. We all wilt.

Please, Aslan, if there is any of that magic of Narnia left in me, bring it all forth to take me back.

❦

Although Lucy wasn't the sort to keep a diary, she wrote in it every single solitary night, crying for the greater part of the evening when sleep should have occupied her. Yet her emptiness remained unsatisfied, and a great, heavy weight was pulling down each working part of her body. Perhaps it was because of the something she dare did not confess, for fear that someone should pick up her journal and read the words built up inside her and scoff. What a child she was, to have such an imagination, eh? She must be terribly creative to think she was in love with a half-goat fellow. Fascinating how children can think up the most remarkable imaginary friends in their fairy-tale minds.

_No!_ she would shout. _He was my life! You could never even dream of how greatly, how deeply I've loved!_

Isn't that funny? they would say. How jolly, how incredibly witty that a little girl could convince herself that she ever loved anyone.

But despite the disfavour she knew all the grown-ups would have of her, it didn't stem the flow of hope. Sometimes Edmund or Peter would have to go looking for her all day, only to find her crying into the coats at the back of the wardrobe. Lucy would shut her eyes and ears to them, but she couldn't hide it from her brothers. They sent her back to her room or to the library to keep her busy and her mind away from such matters, but it never worked.

Edmund sighed, watching her go. He recognised the way she walked about; he'd seen it before. Her eyes wide and plagued with the bags of sleepless nights, the smoke like way she floated through the house, wandering about with no sense of direction. It almost seemed she was a ghost, and Professor Kirke had inquired several times about her well-being. Who wouldn't, at that point?

Edmund had reached out to her, but she couldn't be helped, couldn't be comforted. 'Peter, she misses him.'

Peter nodded. 'We all miss him, and all the rest of Narnia, but–'

'You know what I mean, Peter.'

Hesitantly, he sighed. 'I do.' Peter swept away from Edmund and leaned against the wall, staring blankly out the rain-streaked window. 'How many times have we found her in this room? In the wardrobe? Ed, she needs help. She can't go around like this for the rest of her life. I don't know what I can do. If I have to keep seeing her like this, I might go mad from the grief of it.'

'We can't help her, Peter. We can't.' Edmund stared at the floor. 'She needs to go back. We all do... but I don't know if we can.'

Peter nodded, choking on his tears. 'I know,' he sobbed. '_I know!_' And for the first time in years, Peter didn't care about the protocol of kings, nor could he control himself. He sank to the floor, crying.

Edmund knelt next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and smiling as gently as he could. 'High Kings don't cry,' he whispered.

Peter let out a suppressed, weepy laugh. 'I... I've been a fool.'

Edmund sat in front of him, looking earnestly at him. 'Pete, don't worry. This is what happens to the kings after stories end. They just never write in those parts.'

❦

Lucy couldn't sleep, she couldn't write in the diary, and she could hardly do anything but think. She knew the truth in every careless glance shot in her direction what they would all say. _No matter what I say, no matter what I do, I can do nothing to make them see I'm not a child. _She rolled around in the small, scratchy bed, and glanced at Susan, asleep peacefully. _They'll ridicule me, say how amusing it is. Important words cannot come out of such a trivial person, or else I'm a little girl make-believing she's grown up. They, and even I, at some points, do not understand why I'm a child. _She sat up and hugged herself, cold from the night chill, and stared out the window to the pale full moon. _How can I hold so much pain in so small a body?_

Lucy stared intently at the bedside table, and lifted a trembling hand to grip the candle that stood there. _Just one last time. I promise, this is my last wish. Just let me go and try to go home once more._

Quietly, she arose from bed and slipped into her dressing gown, then lit the candle, praying that the sudden aroma of sulphur wouldn't wake Susan. Creeping, Lucy prowled through the long hallways and staircases to the room. It seemed so odd now that, after fighting for her life in battles, she was afraid of getting caught at night by a housekeeper. But very little could keep her away this night. _My last try, I promise. But please, just let me back in. Let me come home._

One lift of the lock, one step through the doorway, and there it was, just as humble as ever. It seemed so large; fleetingly, she wondered if she'd ever see it as a grown woman again.

_Please, let it be there. This is the last time I'm trying; let me come back._

A hand outstretched, now on the doorknob, opening it... It was open. Taking a deep breath, she peered inside, and immediately her heart fell to the floor and shattered. There was no breeze, no scent of fresh snow, no sight of a tree or the sweet Narnian ground...

'I don't think you'll get back in that way.'

Lucy jumped, and turned to see the Professor sitting on a windowpane, holding his pipe. _He looks so sad,_ she thought, and wondered why. But she took a second glance at him and immediately her mind recognised that stance. He couldn't hide it with the faded dressing gown, the white hair, the wooden pipe in his hand. _He knows Narnia. He's been there._

'Lucy, I've already tried.'

They were both the same, both forgotten champions of that world, the home that could never be again. But seeing him, knowing he, too, was forgotten, gave her hope. Perhaps their story would be remembered. Perhaps it was being remembered now, in that same world where their stories began. He stood next to her and looked wistfully into the wardrobe, just a brief glance. They both knew he'd find nothing.

'Will we ever go back?' she asked, looking up into the old man's face. If she went back, then surely there was hope for him, too.

'Oh, I expect so,' he said, and closed the door. Strangely, she didn't feel so sad to see the door close. She didn't mind so much anymore, now being here with the Professor.

He smiled at her. 'But it'll probably happen when you're not looking for it.' He held out his hand, and Lucy took it, smiling. They began to walk, hand in hand.

'All the same...' he said, bending down a little so she might better hear him, and then he whispered: 'best to keep your eyes open.'

❦

She did go back. The first time was by complete surprise, at a train station, ready to return to school once the summer holidays were over. But once she was back in Narnia, even before she could tell where they were for sure, there was a nagging in the back of her mind that knew they were back home. Then they found out; it was true. They _were_ back home... and yet she was unsatisfied. Where was he? What happened to him?

He was gone again, and this time nothing could happen for them to see each other. He had left her here in this place, in Narnia, at home... but home seemed an empty place now. It had been centuries since her time here, and he had disappeared from the pages of the story forever. Nothing could be done. It was bliss to be there, but she had finally accepted the fact that he was gone. And who knew? She could spend an entire lifetime here and then return again to England, and still no comfort for her grieving. She'd already lived more fully than most people had in their whole lives, and she was barely of adolescent years now. How could one person possibly live any more?

She soon found out. A second time she returned, and by now she was nearly ready to accept the fact that it had been a dream, as Susan had dismissed it so many times. But try as she might, she couldn't be like Susan at all. Narnia had taken her back under its wing, and this time she tried to put it all behind her; every doubt was shaken from her heart, and this time, she fully embraced the experience. Lucy reached out for every part of Narnia she could, so that it might live on in her memory. She'd tried to love another, a heart that could readily welcome hers, a heart that was present and alive. But what would happen when she left again? He'd move on, as she'd learned to do, and she didn't think her heart could stand it anymore. In any case, he couldn't fill the spot that Tumnus had once held captive.

Lucy never went back. She greatly envied her cousin, who had later returned to Narnia without her company. And now she was simply too old to go back. She was confined to the real world, to Earth, and had to simply get along best with what memories she had. However, Lucy really knew she should be grateful, and was simply overridden with selfish feelings. She and Edmund had gone to Narnia more than any single person that she knew of had, and perhaps combined. Lucy was once again grasping for any thread left of that wonderful place.

She came as close as she possibly could; there were very few people in this world who had been to Narnia before, at least to anyone's knowledge, and there were only eight. One of them – in fact, her own dear Susan – had forgotten completely about Narnia and disregarded the whole matter as a dream or a jolly good game of make-believe. The seven who _did_ remember got together as often as possible, for it was only with them that they could speak freely of their once-lives.

Thus it continued for years, ever bearing on and on. Lucy, by this time, was growing older, and was quite soon out of school and became a writer. She rather liked the lifestyle it brought, for although the living conditions weren't at all like Narnia, it at least let her go there in the written word. But it only took one night to change every bit of that. One night was now about granted her a last chance to go back, for one last time.

For although she couldn't now go to Narnia, Narnia still found its way to her.

Peter had sent her a letter at her own little cottage out in the country where she now lived, a grown woman again. It was a day much like any other, a warm autumn morning when the foliage had turned a dulled gold and the air carried a scent of burning leaves. There, nestled in the morning post, was a letter from her eldest brother. Smiling, Lucy brought it in and settled into her favourite chair by the back window, took up her letter-opener and read the message:

_October 11th, 1951_

_My dear Lucy,_

_As you are probably aware, it has been almost exactly eleven years since our first journey to Narnia. Well, at least eleven years in our time. Who knows how long it's been there? In any case, the seven friends are all gathering at Professor Kirke's house in a fortnight – that's the twenty-fifth, if you please – to have dinner. Please say you'll come; everyone else has agreed, and it simply wouldn't be the same if one of our number was missing. I do miss you, Lucy, and hope to see you there. Edmund sends his love as well._

_Your brother,_

_Peter_

By now she'd well grown used to seeing the casual close, 'Your brother' on letters. Eleven years ago, it would've had to be formaland the term 'His Majesty the High King Peter, etc., etc.' would have been used at least once. She liked it better now, with everything simple. It was how she'd grown accustomed to living: simply.

Eleven years already. She'd been nine on that first trip, and she was quite glad she wasn't the youngest friend of Narnia anymore. Eustace was a good six years younger than her, being nine on his first trip when she was fifteen.

Eleven long years since she'd last seen Tumnus.

Even now, she couldn't get his face out of her mind. That wonderful smile of his, those beautiful eyes, that warm way he spoke to her as if she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Lucy shook her head. She couldn't dwell on him anymore, she was a grown woman, not a child._ Though I was also a woman when I loved him. In fact, I was older than I am now._ Then Lucy frowned at herself. _Now, stop it. You're just being silly. Who knows how long ago that was._

_Yes_, said another, smaller voice in her. But it was stronger. _But you still love him._

Well, she would still go to the dinner. Eustace and Jill, poor dears, were still in school, but were also going to the dinner. It had been so terribly long since she'd seen them. Lucy would simply have to go. Immediately she sent Peter a letter saying that she'd be delighted to go, and in a fortnight, she was there.

It was a terribly good meal; Aunt Polly, the Professor's friend whom he'd travelled to Narnia with, was an outstanding cook and had prepared food similar to what they would have eaten, were they in Narnia now. But as terrific as it was, it lacked the flourish of Narnian magic. It lacked the flourish of true Narnian company, it lacked... too much.

Professor Kirke placed down his knife forcefully on the table. 'Now _that_,' he chuckled, 'was a meal! Well done, Polly!'

'Yes, well done!' said Eustace.

'Hear, hear!' laughed Peter, and raised his glass, then looked at the few drops left in his glass and laughed. 'A toast with whatever wine is left in your glasses,' he began, and received a round of laughter before continuing more seriously, 'to whatever of Narnia is left in your heart. May it always be enough for you, and may you remember more and more of those cherished days.' He clinked glasses with the Professor on left side, and with Lucy at his right. Solemnly, the rest of the table followed suit, and Peter sat down.

At once, Lucy saw from the corner of her eye a sort of strange movement behind Polly, and stared. Funny. Now nothing was there. But as soon as she dismissed it from her mind, she noticed everyone else staring at it as well. For in that place now stood a man, ghostly and smoke like, clad in the kingly robes and draping fabric that was all too familiar to each of them. His face was that of a fighter and a noble, strong and square, full of power. Lucy leapt to her feet, as did Eustace and his friend Jill. Jill let out a tiny sort of shriek, and Lucy immediately raced over to her to give the girl some comfort. Polly, at the head of the table, drew in a sharp breath, and the Professor was so terribly startled that he knocked over his empty wine glass. The tinkling noise of its fall swept through the room and brought everyone to their senses.

Peter, although quite pale, had not moved until now. He spoke, gathering all the kingliness in him that was still left from those old days and looked directly into the eyes of the strange, ghostlike man and said with shocking authority: 'Speak, if you're not a phantom or a dream.' He then cocked his head in the slightest and said more. 'You have a Narnian look about you, and we are the seven friends of Narnia.'

Everyone held their breath, waiting for the man to say something, anything, but he did not.

Peter rose to his feet. 'Shadow or spirit or whatever you are,' he said, louder and eyes blazing and fixed on the ghost, 'if you are from Narnia, I charge you in the name of Aslan, speak to me. I am Peter the High King.'

And in that moment, he truly was.

But just as the figure had said nothing before, it said nothing now. Only now it was disappearing as quickly as it came. Everyone in the room at once began speaking.

'Look!' cried Jill. 'It's fading!'

'It's melting away,' said Eustace.

'It's vanishing.'

In a moment, it was gone.

Peter, still standing, turned to face the expectant faces of each person in the room. 'Friends,' he said, and gulped. 'It seems that we are all being called again into Narnia.'


End file.
